


Beauty and the Black Lion

by qye



Category: Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Beauty and the Beast AU, Changing around the ages, Falling In Love, Galra Keith (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) as Beauty (Beauty and the Beast), Lance is lonely, Lotor is an asshole, M/M, Pining Shiro (Voltron), Protective Shiro (Voltron), Slow Burn, Sorry to lotor stans, at least in this fic, creative liberties were taken, first time writing an actual fic, keith is younger, one-sided ish, pidge is a plant, shance, shiro is awkward, written purely out of boredom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-13 12:57:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14112825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qye/pseuds/qye
Summary: As a boy who always wished for more, Lance never thought that "more" would kidnap his mother.Or that "more" would have him trade his life to inprisonment to save her.Or that "more" would mean living with a beast.Or that "more" would lead to him falling in love with an unloveable monster.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go....

It was cold in the palace that night, and the prince couldn't sleep. 

The king had been out on a hunt for the afternoon, and the strange absence of his father did nothing to quell the growing pit of dread in the boy's stomach. 

So, the prince put his younger brother to bed and bid the servants goodnight- and stood by the door, pacing anxiously. 

He wove his hands through black hair, grey eyes tracing the marble tiles as a way of distracting his racing mind. He counts each pattern, memorizing every color- two white, one black, two white, one purple. 

The dark halls echoed back the sound of his bare feet hitting the tile in a unsettling scuff- he knew Father would probably scold him when he took in his undress. 

 

"A prince must always be prepared to face the public at any moment." The King would scold, pushing the boy to stand up strait in a soldier stance- his brother peeking around the corner with wide eyes. 

"You will be king some day, Takashi. Never forget your duty." 

 

The prince was brought from his thoughts with a loud knock. Startled, he turns to the door and his heart floods with relief. 

Opening the door eagerly, he began to greet the king.  
"Fath-"  
Yet then young prince's eyes fell upon the hunched figure on his doorstep and his hopes suddenly evaporated. 

"I seek food and shelter from the rain, your majesty. May I come in?" Inquired the woman in her terrible gravely voice, her face hidden in shadow by the long robe she wore. 

 

The prince stared at her with growing unease and thought of summoning the butler- or perhaps the duchess- after all, she was far more apt to dealing with peasants than he- but he remembers himself and straitens. His father had taught him to be fierce and command respect, and as the future king he must uphold the responsibility. 

"This is the royal palace, not a homeless shelter. Good night." 

The prince is a bit shocked at the coldness of his own voice, but he moves to shut the door none the less.

But before the heavy door shut, a wrinkled hand caught his and long claws dug into his wrist, forcing the door open with inhuman stregth. The prince gasped in pain and stumbled back, falling to the ground and clutching his hand, where bruises had already began to form. His attention turns back to the woman, who straitens in her dark cloak, letting the barest trace of torchlight shine under her hood. 

With horror his recognizes the glowing yellow of her eyes and the slashes of red down her cheeks, and his heart turns cold with terror.

"Foolish boy." The witch hisses, energy cracking from her fingertips. The prince scrambles to his feet and draws the small dagger he always kept on his hip, holding it out with a forced brave scowl that he hoped desperately didn't tremble. 

"Stay back! I wish you no harm, but I will not hesitate-" His speach cuts off into yell as the witch grabs his arm and twists the knife from his grip, cackling coldly.

"The great Prince Shirogane, Champion of the Kingdom, kindest and strongest in his bloodline- nothing but an insolent brat." She waves her hand and his dagger lifts into the air with a wave of magic. 

The prince opens his mouth to respond but just as he takes a breath, the knife swipes down, separating his arm just above the elbow. He lets out a scream of pain and fall to the ground, scarlet seeping over the white marble and into the cracks of the tiles. 

He could hear the witch chanting a spell behind him as shock swept over his body, keeping him paralized on the floor. Spots dance along his vision and he can faintly make out the shape of long black hair and purple eyes running toward him, a small mouth moving to call his name- but any noise is drowned out but the sound of horrible cackling laughter. 

 

He can feel his bones breaking and reforming and thick black fur sprouting from his shoulders and hand, all the while seeing purple lightning flash across his vision and down his body. He heard an agonized yell and tried desperately to reach out to his brother, moving desperately to protect, yet his hands crack and his fingers begin sprouting massive claws before his eyes. 

 

 

The prince gives one last attempt to face the witch- and his vision goes black.


	2. Beauty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a Lance-heavy chapter, so buckle up

Lance awoke to an elbow in his face and the sound of yelling. 

So, y'know, typical morning. 

Shoving Marcus off, the lanky boy sat up and stretched with a yawn. Around him, he could hear chaos through the McClain house- the smell of abuela's breakfast wafted through the door and Lance could hear mom yelling at Sara for misplacing some tool or another, all the while coupled with the sound of Uncle Leo's singing and the happy gurgle of his baby cousin and her claps of delight. Smiling, Lance stood and grabbed his book off the small bedside table, humming as he walks downstairs.

"Good morning abuelita!" He called, striding over and pressing a quick kiss to her cheek and attempting to snatch a hot-cake from the growing plate of goodies. He heard a huff and narrowly missed the swat of a spatula, laughing as he skips towards the door empty handed.

"Lance! Where are you off to at this hour?" 

"I'm going to the library!" He responded in a sing-song, tucking the book to his chest and pushing through the door. 

He heard at least three groans from the members of the house but ignored them, grinning and walking into the crowded bustle of the early morning village. Humming slightly, he waved to the familiar face of the town's baker as he passed. The man gave him a quick up and down before huffing and turning, but Lance shrugged and moved on, unbothered by the obvious judgement. 

Lance found that he tended to turn a lot of heads. Of corse, it wasn't his fault that he was the only boy of 20 in the town who liked to actually question life rather than blindly accepting the provincial life provided- and he could hardly help that he was the only boy his age not already married off and working on having kids of his own. 

It wasn't as if he wanted to get married, either way. Lance couldn't imagine the idea of settling down and raising a family- especially when there was so much to explore and see in the world, and especially counting the fact that while there were many attractive people in the town, they were all shallow and bland. 

Even though he knew his refusal to find a spouse worried his family, he had their support- which is all that really matted.

Fending off another judgmental look from a townsperson with a broad grin, Lance ducked under the sign and pushed his way into the library. The Librarian, a kind old man who never repremanded the boy for simply wanting to read, met him with a friendly smile. 

"Lance, my boy! Have you really finished that old thing so quickly?" 

Lance laughed and handed the faded blue book to the man. "Hey, I can't help my appetite for excitement!" 

The man smiled, eyes crinkling as he, too, chuckled. "I take it you enjoyed it?" 

"Of course!! You know me- tales of adventure are some of my favorites, and that sharpshooter archer guy is just such a relatable character! Doomed to be in the background by his own team, yet more important than anyone could ever know...." His eyes sparkled and he was back in the world of fantasy. "Well, either way, I'm done and I was wondering- do you have anything new for me?" 

The man shook his head.  
"I'm afraid not- there isn't really anything left you haven't already read a thousand times..." 

Lance's smile didn't drop for a second as he raised nimble fingers to pull a delicate book of the shelf and hold it up. "That's quite alright- there's nothing wrong with the classics!" 

The Librarian raised an eyebrow. "You seem rather attached to this one, my boy." 

Lance nodded eagerly. "Of corse!! It's probably my favorite one of all- the disguised prince and the beautiful maiden, lonely until she becomes entranced by a man she knows she shouldn't love because of his social standings, drawn into a tight embrace until true love's kiss reveals his royalty and they can live happily ever after!!" He sighs dramatically after his recounting and wipes away fake tears. "It's a beautiful story." 

The old man's eyes sparkled at the enthusiastic young man. "Well, if you would like, you may keep it." His expression darkened. "Not as if anyone else in this town knows how to read." He mutters. 

Lance jumps, smiling widely and spinning. "Thank you!! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" He hugged the old librarian before twirling to the door, book in hand. 

"Any time!" The book keep called fondly as the boy pushed through the door. 

 

.

 

Lance was too engrossed in his book to notice the cocky swagger and white hair until he had an arm around his shoulder. Stiffening, he shrugged the arm off and ignored the resulting snigger. 

"Lance, beautiful as ever this morning- is that a new blouse?" A confident and preppy accent drawled, finger dragging down the book. 

Lance gritted his teeth slightly. "Good morning, Lotor." He said, refusing to look up from his book.

The text was suddenly snatched from his hands and he was forced to look at the tall, dark skinned man in front of him. 

Lotor tilted the book, examining the cover with distaste. 

"Another romance? How dreadfully boring." He turned his gaze to Lance and gave him an almost predatory leer. "Why read what you could experience in life?" The handsome man said, leaning forward and tracing a finger under Lance's jaw. With a false smile, Lance leaned away, taking back the book and using it as a barrier. 

"I'll stick to books, thanks." 

Of course Lotor was here. Lance could almost swear the creepy mayor's son did nothing but stalk him day and night- another thing that Lance didn't understand. There were plenty of people drooling over the man- why not choose one of them and leave him alone to read? 

Shrugging away the thought, Lance continued to walk past Lotor, doing his best to ignore the calls that followed him as he walked. Eventually, he rounded the block to see his family house on the hill- only to find smoke poring from the cellar. 

Panic rising in his chest, Lance leapt forward and swung open the doors, coughing as foul- smelling smoke spilled out into his face. 

A creative trail of Spanish profanities hissed through the air as his mother worked franticly from beneath a hunking mechanism. 

"Mama?" Lance called, using his book to fan out some of the air. The hunched figure of his mother under the mass didn't respond, lost in muttering. Lance stepped forward and examined the machine, tracking the smoke to an odd metal tube sticking out from the gears and pumps. He glanced down to his mother, who abruptly slid out and met his gaze with a mirrored version of his own signature grin. 

She was once beautiful woman, and it showed, even as her brown hair cascading in messy curls became more and more tinted with light grey and streaks of white. She had tan skin covered in scars from various inventions-gone-wrong and light freckles that matched Lance's covering her nose. Her age was most obvious in the deep creases of her face, but it went almost unnoticed after meeting the wild grey eyes that bore her entire soul with a twinge of madness but an unmistakeable pride and happiness. Lance smiled back at her and she pulled off her goggles, sitting up despite the creaks of protest her back gave. 

"Lance! Wonderfull! You are here just in time to see this new innovation- Sara almost broke it, so let's get it started before she breaks it again, eh?" She said, nearly laughing as the words spill out.

Lance gives his mother a loving smile and steps back. "Fire away, Mama!" 

She flips a switch and the gears start to wurr in a second, the noise raising to a groan of protest as the iron started to klick. Suddenly, an axe blade fell from the top of the invention, chopping a neatly lain out log and tossing it into the air over their heads and into a pile. 

Lance has to duck as the splinter nearly smacks his face but is caught by his mother as she lets out a delighted whoop. 

"Its working, Lance!!!" She calls over the noise, laughing in relief. Lance meets her joyful gaze with his own and opens his arms wide for a hug, yelping as she lifts him off the ground. 

Drawn by the yelling, Lance see's Rosa and Leo curious peak down the stairs. He turns to them and calls out. 

"It works!!" 

Before he knows it, all thirteen members of the household are packed in the basement, cheering as the machine chops and flings, his mother proudly bowing. They begin a McClain family group hug, and in that moment, Lance couldn't be happier. 

 

.

 

After the family sees Mama off a day later, Lance collapses into bed. 

"Finally, some alone time." He muttered to no one in particular, loosening his blue vest and pulling out the book he had gotten the other day from the library. 

His fingers trace the cover fondly and just as he opens the pages to his bookmark, the door swings open, revealing his panting younger brother. 

Lance fought the urge to groan. "What do you want nooooow??" 

Marcus took a deep breath and glanced over his shoulder. 

"Lotor is here." 

At this, Lance shot up. "What? Why?!" 

Marcus grinned and winked. "Rumor has it he's going to propose!" 

Lance felt his face flare red. "What??? Wait-" 

Before he could protest, Marcus was dragging him downstairs and pushing him towards the door before running off. He could hear the entire family above him, ears pressed to the floor to hear the encounter as they franticly shushed each other. He sighed. 

"Traitors." He muttered, before pasting on a fake smile and opening the door. 

Sure enough, there the rich bastard was- leaning against his doorframe and messing with his stupid long hair. 

"Lotor." Lance gritted out with sickening sweetness. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" 

The man smiled and pushed past him into the house- which, rude, who just does that- and shut the door with a click. 

"Lance, I believe I have a problem you can fix." He says smoothly, brushing past him with a sly smile. 

Lance rolls his eyes before turning to him. "Oh really?" He says, blinking his eyelashes innocently. 

Lotor laughs and leans against a chair. "As you know, I am quite single." 

Lance nods, holding back a snarky comment along the lines of "I can't imagine why".

"I know what you want, and I can provide that. A fairytale romance, just like your books- can you picture it? Servants attending to your every whim, your very own house to keep, our heirs in the garden-" 

Lance coughs, fighting back a disgusted blush. "Our.....heirs?" 

Lotor's smile stretches wide and he waves his hand. "Of course- strapping young boys with both my handsomeness and your beauty combined- they would be irresistible to any, of course-" 

Lance cuts him off. "What exactly are you getting at, Lotor?" 

In two blinks, Lotor has pinned Lance to the door with a smirk. Lance struggles slightly before stealthily reaching for the door knob. 

"What I am saying is, I want you to marry me, Lance." Lotor drags a finger along the tan boy's cheekbone and it takes everything in Lance's being to not openly flinch. He forces his grimace into a smile. 

"That's so kind of you to offer but-" 

Lotor's lips are drawing closer. Lance grips the knob tighter and starts to twist. 

"-I have to refuse because really, you deserve better." 

With a grand swing, he opens the door and Lotor tumbles down the steps and Lance swings the door shut quickly. 

The house once again erupts with noise and his family starts to storm down the stairs. Lance, thinking fast, slips out through the back and hides in the stables. He breathes a sigh of relief, being far from the crowd, and finally kicks a barrel, letting out frustration. 

"As if I would ever date that scheming little- ugh!!!" He kicks the barrel again before storming towards the hiss behind his house. 

He can't believe his family would let Lotor come around- they knew how he felt about the man, even if he was rich and attractive and the mayor's son, Lance didn't want that! He didn't want him. 

Without mama around, his family just expected him to be normal.

But he couldn't really blame his family. That's what they thought he needed to be happy. They may be wrong, but they meant well. He could never stay mad.

Lance sat and stared out over the trees, wind pulling through his hair and ruffling it. He knew, deep down, that he was probably doomed to be stuck in this town for the rest of his life, yet he longed for something more. He wanted to be like the paragons of the stories he read, he wanted to have his shot at being a hero. He wanted adventure. 

The silence of the air was shattered but frantic whinnying and gallops. Lance turned his head to see the family horse barreling towards him.

Raising his hands, Lance called out. 

"Woa!! Luca, calm down girl, calm down-" his eyes traced to the long scratch down the horse's flank, and fear rose like sour bile in his throat. 

"Luca, where's Mama?" The horse reared and Lance reached up to catch his reigns. 

"Luca, where is mom???" He asked, panic cracking his voice. The horse bowed her head and Lance forgot all his logic in a moment of fierce protectiveness. 

He climbed on the horse's back and leaned forward. "Luca, take me to her." He asked, gripping tight. 

Just like that, the horse took off running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea why I chose to make my boy Lotor Gaston- I mean, who else could it be? It's not like I'm going to bring in Sendak to seduce lance or somethi-  
> wait, I like that idea better......  
> welp, too late to change it now.  
> Hope you enjoyed, feel free to leave any comments or critisism down bellow, I appriciate it all!!


	3. The Beast

The moment the castle came into view from behind the looming trees, Lance's jaw dropped. 

Beautiful yet terrifying spires rose past the clouds, each adorned with decorations of fierce looking lion statues and paintings. The roof glittered silver in the light of the moon, peaking ever so often in sharp edges and sinister-looking decor. It was like something out of a fairy tale, Lance faintly thought, shivers tracing down his spine. 

Steeling himself and puffing out his chest, Lance dismounted Luca and led her through the open black gate and across the bridge. 

The door loomed over them both, huge and black and painted with purple and neon blue designs that seemed to glow in the low lighting. Gulping back another wave of fear, Lance raised his hand to knock- 

But before he could, the door swung open before him. 

With a weary pat, Lance tied Luca to a lion statue guarding the door and stepped forward into the dark castle. 

Behind him, the door swung shut. 

 

The castle was just as spooky on the inside. Lance recalled a murder mystery he read when he was a child- one book that had kept him for sleeping for about a month- and suddenly the huge dark hallways spreading around him echoed the terrifying aesthetic a much younger Lance had once imagined. 

Strangely, there didn't seem to be dust or cobwebs- the floor under him looked freshly mopped, or it did before his own dirty footprints spread behind him. Lance took a shuddering breath and called out into the darkness. 

"Hello?" 

No response but the echoes of his cry greeted the sudden breach of silence. Lance could almost swear he felt eyes on his back as he walked forward cautiously. He heard a scampering and whipped around, peering into the darkness. 

"Hello?? Please, I'm looking for my mother-" 

As he turned, Lance heard a door creak open and let out a startled yelp. Light leaked from the crack of the door and he stepped forward, eager to get out of the horrible darkness. 

 

.

 

As he stepped into the tower and started to climb the staircase, he continued to hear the same scampering as before- first he put it off as mice or rats, but when he heard what he thought was frantic whispering, his scared brain went into overdrive. 

"This is so creepy.." He muttered under his breath, climbing the cold stone stairs and tracing the walls. He sidestepped the few candles lain out, noticing that they seemed to be freshly lit, having a complete lack of wax pooling at their base. He raised his eyebrow at this, but refused to stop, pushing himself up into the tower. 

Before much climbing, he came across a wide room lit by a single torch that gave off a soft purple glow. Stepping forward cautiously, Lance identified the room as a group of three cells. And in the middle cell, he heard a weak cough that he immediatly recognized. 

"Mama!" He called out, rushing forward. Two hands reached from the darkness to hold onto the bars and he met a horrified, weak gaze. 

"Lance.." His mother gasped, reaching up to frame his face with trembling fingers. Lance blinked back tears and grasped her hand in his. 

"You're cold- oh mama, I was so worried- who did this to you??" He sobbed, overcome with relief, gripping her hand. She managed a weak smile before shrinking to the ground and pulling away. 

"You have to get out of here mijo, before they find you-" She begged in a ragged voice. Lance shook his head and pulled a pin from his hair, franticly setting onto the cell's lock. 

"No mama, I'm not leaving you!!" He replied tearfully, hands shaking as he picks the rusty padlock and shoves the door open, pulling her frail form into his arms. He cradled her gently, wiping away tears. "I've got you- everything is okay now-" 

He cut off as a shadow fell over them both and his mother's eyes widened in fear. 

Turning, he looked up and the black silhouette and fought to keep a brave and calm face. 

"What have you done to her??" He asked accusingly, eyes narrowing. The figure shifted and Lance saw eyes flash in the light. 

"She was caught trespassing. We do not tolerate criminals in this manor." Came a soft yet firm reply. Lance shrank back and his eyes stretched in panic as another weak cough wracked his mother's body. 

"Please, she is very sick- I need to get her back to a doctor or my family-" 

"She is a prisoner!" The figure responded with a fierce growl. 

"Please- I'll do anything!!!" 

There was a snarl and the man took a step forward into the cell. 

"Anything?" 

"Anything!! Just please, let her go!!" Lance could feel hot tears start streaming his face, clutching his mother weakly. 

"You would even....take her place?" The voice sounded hesitant and rough, the shape turning it's head ever so slightly. Lance didn't hesitate. 

"Yes!" 

His mother stirred. "No, Lance- I'm old, I've lived my life- don't do this-" she broke off in a fit of coughing and all of the sudden she was lifted from his grip, weakly straining to latch back on to Lance. 

The black figure carried Lance's mother from his reach with a strange gentleness that Lance could barely notice as her let out a choked sob. 

"I love you mama- tell the family that I-" 

The door slammed and Lance collapsed to the cell floor, body shaking with mortified sobs.

The cell floor was cold and unforgiving as Lance curled in on himself. He wished to make himself as small as possible. He wished that he could just disappear. 

He shakily lifted himself off the floor and stumbled to the window, franticly dapping at his eyes with the sleeve of his filthy white shirt.

From the tower, he could just see two figures approaching a carriage, one being dropped in before the sound of creaking wood filled the air and the box raced off into the night. He strained to see his captor from behind blurry eyes but only glimpsed it as it disappeared into the castle. He hunched against the wall, numbness overtaking his fear and grief. His mother was safe. He had saved her. Everything was going to be okay. 

At least she was going to be okay.

Lance shifted, the filthy straw of the cell providing a small elevation above the unforgiving stone. He shivered and wrapped himself in his blue cloak. 

The sound of scraping against floor drew his attention as his captor emerged from the stairway. In the faint purple light, Lance could only see dark grey eyes catching the flicker of the flame. He quickly wiped away what remained of his tears and met the gaze with an attempted challenge. 

"What do you want now?" Lance attempted to sound confident but his voice came out shaky and hoarse. The figure took a step forward and for the first time, Lance could see details in the glowing purple light. 

What he had previously thought of as a man was, in fact, a beast. 

It had a scarred muzzle and slanted eyes that were strangely human. Every surface was covered with thick black fur that thickened around it's collar in an almost mane- a tuft of white fur on it's head the only color to break the dark tones. Lance faintly called to mind the pictures of animals he had read about in a book detailing the african safari, and the grotesque statues scattered around the castle. His eyes dropped to the heavy claws of the creature, and something silver caught the light. Lance gasped as he realized that the Lion- Man was missing an arm, replaced just above the joint with a terrifying metal paw. 

Feline ears pinned back and he could hear the creature's soft growl. Lance gulped and stared at the ground, not wanting to test his luck against his captor.

"Follow me." The beast rumbled. Lance looked up in surprise. 

"But, I thought-" 

"Would you rather stay in the tower??" It snapped, grey eyes flashing. 

Lance looked at the ground. "No." He mumbled. 

"Then follow me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Trois, everybody. Thank you for the kind feedback, and I hope I can live up to your praise!


	4. Be Our Guest

Walking down the hall behind the beast, Lance fought to keep his gaze on the floor. 

He counted the marble tiles of the halls, repeating the pattern in his mind in order to keep him from staring. Abuela always said it was rude, and Lance had a funny feeling that the creature would not react kindly to Lance's ogling. 

His mind was still reeling from what he saw in the cells. He was fairly certain that there was no such thing as a black lion, much less one that walked around on two legs and spoke fluent english. Yet, here he was, trailing behind a muscular, large, somewhat humanoid but all-together beastly thing with a metal arm. 

Speaking of the metal arm, Lance was quite unsure what that was all about. It moved like flesh and blood, yet it gleamed silver and had a faint purple light that shone from the core. Lance tried to guess how it worked, calling back to a clockwork hand Mama had once made- yet that had been loud and worked by pulling small wires, and Lance couldn't hear anything or see any wires. He thought for a moment that it was simply armor, but when the beast raised a claw to beckon him forward, he ruled it out as no armor could possibly be that mobile or fluid.

"I hope you like it here." Came a soft voice. Lance lifted his head to meet grey eyes, watching him with mixed emotions. As he returned the gaze, he thought he saw something close to what he recognized as regret flash the beast's face. In the same moment, the look was gone and the beast looked forward again, adjusting his grip on the torch. 

Lance looked down, unsure how to respond to the unsettling sudden gentleness.

 

.

 

Before long, they reached a door that was painted with blue flowers and swirling green designs. The beast swooped as he entered through the low doorway, drawing Lance's attention to its overwhelming size and height. He gulped softly and glanced around the room. 

"You will....stay here unless me or one of my servants comes to summon you. If you must leave the room, stay in this wing." The beast sounded unsure as he listed off his rules. Lance kept his eyes on the floor. 

"And under no circumstances are you to enter the west wing of the house." The beast added hastily. At this, Lance lifted his eyes. 

"Why?" He asked, surge of curiosity taking over. 

The beast bared its teeth, ears pinning back. "It's forbidden." He snarled, turning and walking out the door. Lance shrunk back, watching the creature retreat. The door slammed and he collapsed back on to the bed, no longer fighting back as another round of tears streamed down his face. 

"Oh, man- don't cry, dude! The master doesn't mean to be so harsh-" 

Lance leapt up, eyes scanning the room. 

"W-who is there??" He demanded shakily. 

"Woops. Didn't mean to scare ya. Over here!" 

Lance's head whipped around and landed on an odd shaped yellow dresser. He blinked. He could have sworn the noise came from that dir- 

The drawers began to shake. 

"Yup, you're lookin at me. Hiya!" 

Lance let out a yelp and stumbled back, landing on his butt. 

"What the cheese?!" He squeaked.

"Hunk, don't frighten the poor boy! He's had a long night." 

Lance's head swung and he screamed again. There was the reflection of a woman sitting in his mirror, smiling apologetically. 

"Now, now- no need to be scared. I'm Allura, and this is Hunk. What's your name?" The woman in the mirror said, the vanity wobbling a bit as she spoke. She had a strange accent that Lance struggled to place from the time his family lived in England. 

Lance opened and shut his mouth rapidly, eyes open wide. 

"I-what- this isn't possible- what-" 

The drawers of the light yellow dresser began to shake, and after a moment of pure terror, it dawned on Lance that the thing was laughing. 

"Oh yeah, this is totally not possible. Yet it's still happening." The cabinet responded. 

"I-" 

"It's alright, take your time." The mirror woman said. Lance's attention snapped back to her and he got a better look at the apparition. The white hair and dark skin immediately reminded him of Lotor, but the light blue markings under her eyes were definitely new. Her reflection was foggy and distant, as if she were nothing but dissipating smoke trapped behind glass. 

Lance opened his mouth again and after letting out a squeak, cleared his throat. 

"My- uh- my name is....Lance?" 

The apparition smiled gently. "Lance. Welcome to the Castle of Lions." 

Lance coughed at the name, fighting the growing suspicion that whoever lived here had some sort of lion obsession. Then again, remembering the appearance of the beast, he wasn't really surprised. 

He glanced between the two pieces of talking furniture and opened his mouth to ask them a question before the door creaked and he turned back to see a potted plant using it's vines to pull on the doorknob. Frozen in place, he furrowed his eyebrows and watched as it hopped across the floor. A wave of realization hit him and Lance could hardly believe how bizarre this night had gotten in just a few short hours. 

The pot turned to him to reveal a crudely drawn face with glasses. The scribble began to move, forming a scowl. 

"Okay, but he isn't that cute. Matt owes me two coins for the great exaggeration of attractiveness." The pot grumbled, turning and hopping over to the mirror-vanity and using it's vines to climb onto the desk. 

For some reason, Lance's mind went to a book he read about tiny green creatures that were burned by water and multiplied when fed. 

"Now, Pidge," Mirror lady- Allura, Lance corrected- cooed. "Be nice." 

The pot made a sound which Lance assumed to be a scoff and turned to face him. 

"Did I miss the freak out?" 

The dresser once again chuckled, drawers sliding in and out. "You bet. It was great." 

"Dang, why do I always miss the fun stuff?" 

Lance stared at the pot and it made a face at him. His eyebrows shot up. "I never thought I would see a talking plant. Or a plant that talked like a little boy." He said, mostly to himself.

The vines shot up and the scribbled face contorted. "I am a girl!!!!!" The pot cried, looking as affronted as a a ceramic pot could look. 

Lance shook his head and rubbed his eyes. He was definitely dreaming. Any moment now, he would wake up at home to someone sleeping on top of him, a new day with no talking household items and no self sacrifice and definitely no- 

A knock at the door brought Lance from his thoughts. 

He could faintly hear frantic whispering before a deep voice cleared it's throat. 

"Join me for dinner." Lance recognized the beast's low rumble and turned his back to the door. 

"I'm not hungry." That was a lie. Lance hadn't eaten in several hours. His stomach gave a weak protest. 

There was another bought of frustrated whispering and he heard a growl of frustration. 

"It would bring me....great.....pleasure....if you would accompany me....to dinner." The voice repeated, gritting out the words with clear distaste. 

He glanced over his shoulder to find the three sentient objects in his room to be nodding franticly. Or rather, what he assumed was nodding. Hunk the dresser was franticly wobbling and the pot named Pidge was shaking it's vines in an up and down motion. 

Lance ignored this and glared at the door. "Just leave me alone!!" He yelled, crossing his arms with a defiant look. He stuck his tong out for good measure, before remembering the beast could not, in fact, see him. 

There was a frustrated growl and the sound of something snapping. "Then you can starve, for all I care!!!" 

He heard the signature sound of scraping claws signaling the beast's retreat and fell onto the bed, screaming into a pillow. He raised his face and noticed the sheets were full on satin. His nose wrinkled in distaste and wished for the warm cotton of home. 

He heard an uncertain noise to his left and turned to face the wall of cabinets. 

"He's just trying to be nice, y'know.....he's a good guy, if you give him a chance." 

Lance laughed bitterly. "Oh yeah, seems super stellar- after all, keeping me here against my will, refusing to feed me, yelling when he doesn't get his way- positively charming." He snapped. 

He turned and curled up on the bed, back to the crowd. 

"Common guys, let's just leave him alone." One of them muttered softly. Lance heard a few thumps and the door creaking open, and for the first time he was alone. 

 

Thinking back, Lance couldn't remember ever feeling so alone in his life.

.

 

Lance was awoken by a soft tap on his door. 

He didn't recall falling asleep in the first place, but as he stirred in his bed the memories came flooding in. He looked around, hoping that he was back home, but was only met by the cold walls and high celling of his glorified prison. He laid back and covered his eyes, shivering slightly. 

The tap returned and Lance sat up. He sighed and walked to the door, cracking it open slightly. 

His eyes landed on a creature about half his size and a pair of glowing yellow eyes. 

Lance yelped and shut the door, not in the mood to fight demons. He heard an exasperated sigh. 

"Come on, I brought you food." A voice shout- whispered. 

At the mention of food, Lance was reminded of his uncomfortable hunger and bit his lip. 

Slower than before, he cracked open the door and eyed the thing warily. 

It had fine purple fur and an almost-human face, black eyebrows matching a strange black haircut. Small fangs prodded from it's mouth and Lance came to the realization that the creature was a kid of about 12 or 13- about the same age as his younger brother, he noted with a pang. He met it's unnerving yellow gaze before dropping to the claws clutching a bundle. 

"So? Are you gonna let me in, or are you gonna just stand there and stare?" The kid grumbled, shifting on his feet. 

Lance cracked open the door and the boy slipped in. Lance's eyes never left the messy black hair and he swallowed. 

"Um, who..are you?" Lance asked cautiously, watching as the boy climbed onto his bed and grabbed a pillow, unwrapping the bundle to reveal a loaf of fine bread and some assorted fruits and candies. Lance's mouth watered at the sight but he still held back cautiously. 

The boy grabbed a candy and unwrapped it, popping it in his mouth.

"I'm Keif." The boy said, mouth full around the tart drop. 

Lance raised an eyebrow, none of his questions at all answered by the short response. 

"Well, Keif, I was actually asking-" 

"Its KeiFF." The boy snapped, nose wrinkling up in frustration. Lance threw his arms in the air indignantly. 

"That's what I said!!" 

"No, you said Keif. Its KeiFF. K-E-I-T-H. KeiFF." The purple gremlin responded, crossing his arms with a pout. 

Lance narrowed his eyes. "Are you saying Keith?" 

The boy nodded, grinning proudly. His smile revealed two missing front teeth, and Lance laughed as he realized the mistake. Keith's yellow eyes narrowed. 

"Are you making fun of me??" 

Lance raised his hands and sat on the bed. "I would never." He grinned and reached forward, tension a bit broken. He tore a bit from the baguette and nibbled on it, savoring the warmth with a wide smile. 

"This is.....unexpected." He said, gesturing to the food. 

Keith snorted. "Well, what did you expect? A choreographed sing and dance number and a buffet?" 

Lance laughed a bit at the thought, imagining Hunk the wardrobe dancing across a table. 

"No, no. I just....honestly wasn't thinking I was going to get fed at all." 

He couldn't keep the bitterness from his tone as he tore off a bundle of grapes. He heard some shuffling and looked up to see Keith messing with the candy wrapper. 

"We aren't savages." He muttered, the hurt in his tone almost too quiet for Lance to hear. 

Lance winced. He felt strangely protective of the boy, despite having just met. Perhaps the imprisonment and the promise of food was making him delirious. 

Wanting to change the mood, Lance quickly reached out to ruffle his hair. 

Keith let out an indignant squawk and swatted at his hand "Hey!" 

Lance laughed. "Don't look so glum, mullet." 

Keith's hand flew to his hair. "It's not a- I don't have a mullet!" He said defensively, glaring at Lance. 

Lance laughed and bit down on another grape. "So, mullet, riddle me this- is there anyone in this building who isn't half animal or a household item?" 

Keith's ears burned pink at the nickname and he crossed his arms after unwrapping another candy. "Pretty much." He replied shortly. 

Lance's smile faltered and he focussed on eating. As he feared, he was in a castle full of animals and creepy furniture, alone. His hopes of getting assistance escaping dwindled slightly and he tore another piece of bread. 

"But everyone here used to be human." Keith suddenly blurted. "Well, except for me but-" his voice faltered and the boy suddenly stood. 

Lance's head shot up. "Wait, what do you mean?" He asked, leaning forward, small meal forgotten behind him. 

"Nothing! Enjoy the food!" Keith blurted, speed walking towards the door. 

"No, Keith, hold-" 

The door swung shut behind the child and Lance sat in the darkness. 

"-on.." He finished quietly, staring at his hands. 

The kid had said something about them all being human...

Lance shook his head. Everything here was too weird. 

"What's going on..." Lance said to himself, the silence of the room providing no answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I appriciate any notes, critisims, or concerns to help me improve my (admittedly stunted) writing abilities.


	5. The West Wing

When Lance woke up next, it was by the harsh light of dusk beaming directly onto his face. 

Blinking away sleep, he sat up, looking around the room. The clock on the wall proclaimed the hour as 4 pm and Lance inwardly cringed at himself for sleeping almost the entire day away. 

He was suddenly aware that he still wore his filthy cloak and tattered shirt, the blue of his vibrant vest now dirty and stained from the rain and the dungeon floor, causing Lance to grimace. He stood and made his way to the door, peaking out into the hallway. 

"Cuboard?" He called softly, looking around. No response. 

Biting his lip, Lance thought back. 

"Hunk?" He called again, a bit louder. 

Across the hall, he heard shuffling, and the pale yellow dresser wobbled into view. The decorative knobs Lance identified as makeshift eyes looked him up and down. 

"Do you....need a different outfit?" 

Lance bit his lip and put on his best winning smile. "Do me a solid?" 

The large figure wobbled in what Lance presumed was delight and his(could you call a dresser a he?) drawers swung open to reveal an extravagant collection of all sorts of fashions. 

Lance leaned forward, eyes tracing over the gaudy designs until he reached out, picking out the most plain light blue shirt he could find and some simple black slacks cuffed at the ankles. Somewhat satisfied, he muttered a 'thanks', turned, and started to retreat before a distressed noise stopped him. 

"Hey man, I don't wanna be like, rude, or anything, but you are kinda staying in my room- not that there is anything wrong with that, but like- is there any way I could, y'know, come back in?" The cabinet said, rushing his words and seemingly flinching away. 

Lance fixed his startled expression and gave him a grin. "Of course- sorry for kicking ya out in the first place, roomie." 

 

.

 

Eventually, Lance got dressed in his new clothes and he slipped out of the room. He had been a bit delayed in his departure after, at his own insistence, he and Hunk had bonded over their hobbies and interests. Lance had learned that the man (he was a man, Lance checked with him) enjoyed cooking whenever he could work the trolley system to get to the downstairs. This had left Lance with a rather odd picture of the large set of drawers sitting on a ridiculously small plank, being hefted down by sentient candle sticks. 

They had also discussed at length the servants of the home, Lance learning that the butler was a small table side clock named Coran, that the maids were indeed a set of walking and talking feather dusters, and that the cook was a rather incompetent stove named Sal who had a foul temper and no taste in fine cooking. 

When Lance inquired how exactly Hunk had learned to cook, or how he knew what good food tasted like (being a dresser and all), and Hunk had just responded with a laugh and the assurance that Hunk "just knew these things". 

Of course, it was now quite into the dark and Lance had decided it was finally time for him to go exploring around his new home. 

Grabbing a candle after checking (extensively) that it wasn't alive, Lance wandered off along the halls. He lifted the small flame, barely lighting his surroundings, and was once again taken aback by the sheer size of the castle. His room appeared to be on the third floor of the east wing, about 30 or so yards from where the balcony looked over the main entrance and stairwell. 

He opened every door he came across, but was disappointed to find most were empty or full of covered furniture, long forgotten under layers of dust. 

Lance sneazed lightly and backed out another of such rooms, biting his lip and pulling the door shut quietly. He felt a light breeze and shivered, turning to see the adjacent wing. 

Unlike his side of the palace, the west hall was lined with pictures and tattered curtains, and the regular pacing of doors was replaced by a grand staircase spilling out at the end. The soft purple glow of the strange castle torches lined the walls, and Lance faintly wondered the reason for the apparent neglect.

Everywhere else in the house was tidy and clean, yet the hall looked more like a forgotten relic of time, cobwebs stretching across suits of armor and dust floating thickly in the air. 

Looking around, Lance cautiously stepped forward. One peak wouldn't hurt, especially when this wing seemed far more interesting then the uniform cleanliness of his own halls. The breeze once again swept across his neck, almost beckoning Lance into the faint purple glow. 

Taking a deep breath, he started forward. 

 

.

 

After stepping in, Lance came to a solid conclusion. 

The west wing was downright terrifying. 

If he had thought the castle in general was reminiscent of his horror novels, these corridors were definitely the place the protagonists went to be gruesomely murdered. 

Every fiber of his being screamed for him to turn back, but Lance pressed on, too drawn to the strange symbols glowing on the walls and the looming statues that seemed to have been hastily piled out of sight. 

The paintings seemed to follow Lance's movements with cruel eyes. The subjects were all powerful and commanding men- if Lance had to guess, royalty- sitting on decadent chairs and posing intimidatingly in what appeared to be military uniforms. 

Before he knew it, Lance stood at the base of the grand stairs. He looked down and saw a single path had been cleared of dust, and a skinny carpet riddled with holes that lead up the twirling path. He reached forward a boot- clad foot before hesitating. 

Once again, Lance felt the instinctual urge to run flood back, and considered it for a moment, hovering. Who knew what would happen if he was caught. The beast was huge, it could easily kill him with a swipe for his disobedience- or worse, he could be left to die in the freezing cells, starvation eating him away as he wished for his family or even the kind young Keith from the night earlier to come save him, spending his last moments crying for help that would never come. 

Lance shrugged and pushed down the thought, surging forward. No way in hell he was going to let fear hold him back, and if he was going to be trapped here forever, he had every right to know what the master of the house was hiding. 

 

.

 

Climbing the staircase, Lance was careful to keep his steps quiet and stealthy, eyes locked on his surroundings while being careful not to stumble or fall as he followed the ragged red carpet. 

Before long, he reached an open doorway, the old wood barely hanging off it's hinges and swinging in the soft breeze. 

The room was practically destroyed. Lavish wallpaper hung torn to shreds, peeling away from the wood and bricks. The four poster bed that sat at the center was cracked and the curtains were torn down- however, the sheets were neatly folded over the torn mattress, as if the room's inhabitant had made a pitiful attempt to cover the ripped horror. The window in the corner was shattered, glass strewn across the floor in glittering shards, and most of the decor that once hung was lying on the ground, carelessly discarded.

On one wall, there was a grand fireplace that still smoldered softly. Lance bent down and noticed a mass of pillows collected near the warm embrace of the fire, the debris of the room neatly swept away from the comfort. 

As he stood, his eyes were drawn to the one still hanging painting. The canvas had been slashed through by claws, but as Lance lifted a hand, smoothing over the tears, he gasped softly in shock. 

The man in the painting was easily recognizable as the latest in the generations he was seen in the hallway- his strong jaw and piercing grey eyes gave him away as sharing the bloodline. Bellow the Man were two boys. 

The elder boy had short black hair styled in a military fashion. He was undeniably the son of the man, as he had his father's features yet eyes with an unidentifiable gentleness the older man lacked. He was quite handsome, and Lance found himself drawn to the slight curve of his lips as he stared forward, immortalized as if he had some secret surprise.

Undeniably, however, the most shocking part of the painting was the youngest boy who stood on the shoulder of the man. His black hair was long and fashionably unruly, and bright purple eyes smiled with the honest and naive happiness only children held. And, the more Lance stared, the more Lance was shocked by the boy's similarity to the purple teen who had brought him food the other night. 

The boy looked exactly like Keith.

A soft rustling brought Lance to drop his hand and stare out onto the room's balcony. His eyes widened as he noticed a black rose suspended by purple magic under a glass vase. 

Hypnotized, Lance stepped forward, lifting the glass and reaching out to touch a fallen petal. 

His hand was suddenly slammed away by a massive black paw. 

Lance turned and was met with the snarl of the beast and a contorted face, lips drawn back to reveal sharp teeth in seething rage. 

"What are you doing here??! Do you have ANY idea the damage you could have done?!!!" The beast growled, covering the rose protectively and glaring at Lance, ablaze with anger. 

Lance stumbled back, nearly tripping over his feet. "I-I'm sorry, I got curious-" He stammered, fear climbing his throat and he struggled to not trip over the broken debris. 

The beasts eyes met his, and Lance was shocked by the pure furry that zeroed in on him. "Get out." The beast said slowly, snarl quiet and deadly. 

Lance blinked, terrified. "W-what?" 

"GET OUT!!" The lion roared, straitening to his full height and gripping his inch long claws deep into the table's wood. 

Lance turned and ran, pure adrenaline fueling him as he leapt down the stairs, fighting back horrified tears and begging whatever gods may be that the beast did not give chase. 

 

.

 

As he pushed his way through the door, Lance could faintly hear the questioning cries of Allura and a clock he assumed was Coran, but he did not slow his pace in the slightest. Breaking out into the night, his frantic gaze traced the lawn as he ran and landed upon the light brown horse. He whistled and Luca was running to his side. He pulled himself onto her back and she took off into the dark woods. 

Lance's hair whipped in his face as the horse bolted. He glanced over his shoulder to see the castle duck out of view and felt a mixture of unexplainable dread and a flood of relief. His heart was racing from the combined factor of his long winded run and the fear of seeing the beast so furious. His mind replayed the interaction, and all he could see were those hateful, hurt eyes and all he could hear was the agonized roar that followed him as he ran. 

He was blinking away tears now, hot and fast as they streamed down his cheeks. Franticly wiping them away, Lance didn't look up in time to see the deep mud ahead, and was caught off guard as he was thrown off his steed as she suddenly sunk into the mud. 

She called out in distress, bucking up but only serving to plunge her back legs deeper into the unforgiving muck. Lance wiped his eyes and raised his arms to calm her before the glint of glowing amber eyes caught his attention. 

Wiping around, Lance noticed for the first time the growing assembly of wolves stalking towards him and Luca. He scrambled and managed to grab a hefty stick, brandishing it to protect himself and his trapped horse as the animals stalked forward. 

His head shot back and forth as the pack closed around him, managing to smack one in the face as it lunged forward. 

Briefly, Lance had the shocking thought that he was going to die here. 

He was going to die alone in the woods, ripped to shreds by a pack of wolves because he couldn't control his own curiosity. He let out a faint distressed whimper and batted away another wolf before he felt teeth snap and dig into the fabric of his pant leg. 

He let out a panicked yell for help as he was dragged back. 

Unexpectedly, someone answered. 

 

.

 

All Lance saw was a flash of black fur as the wolf on his leg was torn away. He heard a pained yelp and lifted his head to see two more of the creatures thrown back. His eyes focussed and he recognized black fur and a silver arm. 

Three more wolves surged forward. The beast swung his arm, fighting off two with massive swipe, until the third leaped forward and sunk it's fangs into his arm. 

The beast let out a roar of pain and swiped his massive claws down across the wolf's flank, causing it to yelp. Another wolf ran forward, catching the beast by surprise as he fought off the other. Lance let out a warning cry a second too late and it slamed into his leg, making the beast stumble and fall with another agonized yell. 

The silver arm suddenly turned harsh purple and the beast dig claws into the back of his offender, causing the wolf to shriek and dash away, soon followed by it's pack mates. 

Lance stood in shock, watching as the arm returned to it's silver color. Heavy lidded eyes met his before rolling back, and Lance gasped, running forward as the beast collapsed.

The beast was bleeding from multiple bites, and his breath came in ragged gasps. Lance hesitated as a whisper came from the back of his mind, urging him to run. Yet, he looked down at the wild black mane and heaving chest of the creature that saved him and he felt his mind grind to a halt. He looked down at the fur matted by blood and fur and his heart sank in realization. 

If he ran, he could have the life he left behind again; loving family, happy home, provincial sweetness that was easy. 

He could be free.

But as he traced the weak form of the beast, the nagging feeling in his chest grew and he knew that he didn't want that. 

He knew he couldn't just leave the one who saved his life to die in the mud. 

 

Lance looked back to his horse made his choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all are enjoying the party-  
> Next chapter is going to start into the heavy shance stuff. 
> 
>  
> 
> Man, I hope I'm doing this whole writing thing right. 
> 
> Mkay  
> Bye


	6. A Much Needed Talk

Lance walked back into the room after his supply run to find the beast awake and looking around warily. 

He stopped and met Lance's eyes, holding his gaze for a few moments before his eyes dropped to his wounds. He flinched and lifted the arm gently, flexing slightly and sniffing the scratches warily. 

Lance shifted and took a step forward, kneeling next to the chair and pulling up the stool he found in a cupboard. He reached out and grabbed the paw only to have it snapped from his grasp with a startled growl. Lance gritted his teeth and set the bowl of bandages and a damp cloth down. 

"Let me see them." Lance said, meeting sharp grey eyes with a glare. The beast looked somewhat taken aback by the sudden command, but continued to cradle his arm protectively. 

"Absolutely not." He responded in a light growl. 

Lance sighed and reached out to grab hold of the arm, much to the apparent dismay of the lion. He tensed to pull back, but Lance narrowed his eyes fixed him with a deadly frown and the beast relented, relaxing his paw into the boy's delicate hands. 

With a triumphant smile, Lance bent to grab the cloth, faintly aware of the gaze following his every movement. He looked up to find an unreadable expression on the beast's face and curiosity poked at the edge of his consciousness. 

He turned his look back to the long scratches and breathed a sigh of relief in the fact that they weren't too deep. "This is going to sting a bit." He commented lightly before dabbing the cloth to the wounded arm and matted fur. 

He heard a sharp intake of breath from above him and felt muscles tense bellow his touch. Sensing the beast was about ready to push him away, Lance scrambled to find a distraction. Something light and non touchy to ease out of the awkward tension-

"So, do you... have a name? Or do you just go by "The Master" or "Beast" all the time?"

Lance mentally slapped himself as confused silence followed his question. He didn't dare look up as he pressed the damp cloth down again, not wanting to show his embarrassment at asking such a blunt and rude question- What if the guy didn't have a name? What if it was a sore topic? What if he kicked Lance out for daring to bring out the horrible memories of his name? What if his name actually WAS Beast?? What if- 

"Shiro." 

Lance looked up in surprise. The beast's head was turned away, avoiding eye contact. 

"My name is Shiro." The beast- Shiro, Lance corrected mentally- repeated, wincing again as the cloth pressed to his skin. 

Lance offered a grin. "Shiro, huh? Cool name." He offered, lamely attempting to continue the conversation. 

Shiro raised an eyebrow and Lance suddenly had the urge to disappear into the floor. He distracted himself by unraveling a bandage. 

"Your name is... it's Lance, right?" 

Lance shuffled, rubbing his neck as a bolt of uncertainty flashed through him. "Um, yeah it is. How did you..." He let his question trail off as he began to wrap Shiro's injured arm, hoping that he would catch up on his meaning without him needing to complete his thought. 

Luckily, Shiro seemed to understand. 

"Oh. Well, I- my brother, he...told me." 

Lance tilted his head slightly. "..brother?" 

Shiro lifted his sliver arm to comb lightly through his mane, drawing Lance's gaze to the peculiar white tuft at the crown of his head. "Yes- Keith. He brought you food last night..?" 

Lance's eyebrows shot upwards. "Woah, wait- mullet is your brother??" His looked up and down his figure pointedly, as if to ask how the lion-creature could possibly be related to the purple fluff ball and Shiro let out a soft laugh that was surprisingly gentle coming from the beast's hulking figure. 

"He's adopted." 

Lance nodded halfheartedly, mind whirling. If Keith and Shiro were brothers, could it be that the figure before him was once the attractive young man he saw in the portrait earlier..? 

He dismissed the idea almost immediately. Shiro couldn't possibly be the same boy, for logic's sake. 

People didn't just turn into animals one day, that broke the laws of nature. 

And there was no possible way Keith was the same boy either- it was probably just some freakish coincidence, Lance concluded. 

Despite the sheer impossibility, the thought nagged at the back of his mind. Lance frowned and pushed the idea further back into his subconscious- now was not the time for wildly impossible theories. 

Suddenly, a different thought occurred to Lance. 

"Wait, You knew that Keith snuck me food??"

Shiro's ears twisted back in a look of slight embarrassment and he suddenly became very interested in his shoes. 

"I...actually put him up to it. I couldn't just let you starve." 

Lance's mouth dropped open in shock and heat rushed to his cheeks. Tying off the bandage on his arm, Lance shifted and avoided looking over to the beast. 

"Oh." He managed. 

He felt the curious gaze on him again and he bit his lip nervously, glancing at the shoulder wound. He shifted closer, straining a bit to reach out before dropping his arms and rubbing his nose. 

"Could you...y'know." Lance made beaconing motions with his hands and Shiro's eyes widened. 

"Oh- right- of course." Shiro slipped forward in the chair, leaning over Lance slightly to give the smaller boy access to the bite. Lance dipped the cloth back into the mix of alcohol and warm water, dabbing against the mark with a focused expression. He felt a hiss of warm breath on his neck and shuddered slightly at the strange sensation. 

"I wanted to say thank you." Lace said softly, training his eyes on the wound. He felt Shiro shift in surprise and continued. "You saved me from those wolves, and even after I broke my one promise too- you-you still saved my life anyway, so, thank you." 

There was a soft rumble from deep within the beast's throat and Lance glanced up and locked eyes with him. 

"And I'm sorry for scaring you. And for being so harsh. I assure you, that isn't what I'm like- it's just..." Shiro trailed off and shook his head before his lips curled in to an attempt of a smile that looked alien and sad on his face. "I'm sorry, Lance." 

Lance blinked and smiled back. "Friends?" He said, offering his hand. 

Shiro gave him a quizzical look before accepting his hand after carefully retracting his claws. "Why not." He responded, shaking Lance's hand firmly. 

Lance let a wide grin spread across his face and placed his hands on his hips confidently. "Good. Now sit still while I dress this wound." 

 

.

 

After treating Shiro's wounds, the two had parted back to their respective rooms. Just as Lance turned to go, a warm paw grabbed his hand and he turned to see Shiro standing awkwardly, looking vulnerable in the soft purple light. 

"Would you eat breakfast with me?" 

Lance blinked and glanced over towards a clock. 

"I mean, tomorrow. Tomorrow morning." Shiro clarified, stepping forward. 

Lance looked down and thought for a second before meeting Shiro's gaze with a hesitant smile. 

"Sure. Why not." 

Shiro grinned, relief apparent. 

"Good. Splendid. I look forward to it." 

Lance held in a light laugh and tilted his head.

"Can I have my hand back, Shiro?" 

The large creature dropped Lance's hand immediately, and Lance got the impression that he was most likely blushing under all that fur. With another giggle, Lance turned and started to walk back to his room. 

"Goodnight, Shiro!" He called over his shoulder. 

He felt eyes on his back his entire walk to his room, and just as he opened his door, he heard a soft reply. 

"Goodnight, Lance."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Shiro is hard, man.
> 
> As always, all critisim, comments, kudos, and bookmarks are greatly appriciated!!


	7. Breakfast

The next morning, Lance sat up from bed just as dawn light filtered through the curtains- and became instantly proud of his first normal sleep cycle since arriving at the castle. 

Stretching out his long arms and yawning, Lance looked around to find Hunk absent from his room. He frowned and shifted, rubbing his neck as he wondered how exactly the giant had wobbled out of his quarters without waking him- he didn't think he had been sleeping that soundly, but he guessed the fiasco with the wolves had tired him out. 

At the thought, Lance's mind stirred up the memories of the night before- more specifically his memories of the beast- Shiro. 

As he stared at his hands, he remembered the overwhelming warmth of his body and his heavy paw resting in his lap. He remembered how gentle Shiro had been even in his pain, as if he was cautious to move or speak so loud as to scare the lithe boy away. 

He remembered his grey eyes watching him as he worked, the same entrancing eyes that had looked at him amongst the fighting with what Lance now pegged as an almost fierce protectiveness. 

Lance rubbed his face and sighed.

It was strange and irrational of him to think of the beast that was holding him hostage in a positive light, he reasoned- and saving someone once hardly made him a good person. 

The beast that had captured his mother was definitely not a good person.

With a solid nod, Lance swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, wobbling a bit on his light injury. He silently thanked whatever gods may be that the wound had mostly just caught his pant leg, leaving only shallow scratches on his calf. 

"Man, where is Hunk?" Lance muttered to himself, looking down at his loose bed-clothes with light disdain. 

Limping over to the door, Lance leaned out into the hall. "Hunk?" He called out, head swiveling. No response. 

Biting his lip, Lance leaned back into his room and slapped his forehead in exasperation before turning and wobbling into the hall. 

"Hunk?" He hissed, opening a few doors in search of his wayward roommate. 

After his search of the floor provided no results, he groaned and turned, doing his best to speed walk down the staircase. 

"Hunk?? Common dude, I need to change!" He called again, turning the landing- 

-And loosing his footing on the marble, letting out a cry of alarm as he slid down the stairs. 

Squeezing his eyes shut as his heart leaped into his throat, Lance's incredibly short life flashed before his eyes as he flew impractically high into the air. He silently wished every one of his family members goodbye, ready to accept his death- before he realized that he had been in the air for a bit too long to be possible. 

"Lance, why are you still in your nighties?" 

Cracking open an eye, Lance was met with the view of broad black arms and a confused silver stare. His head turned and he met the gaze of an equally confused purple kid. 

"Oh, hey mullet." He said shakily, hands tightening into the fabric of his catcher as his mind reeled from the terrified shock he had experienced a moment earlier. 

He heard a quiet uncertain noise from above him and he looked up to realize more clearly that he was currently being carried in Shiro's muscular arms.

And grasping onto Shiro's shirt like his life depended on it. 

His face flared bright red and he immediately scrambled back, nearly falling to the floor in his effort to escape the firm hold. Shiro set him down quickly, smoothing his claws down his shirt and stepping back, eyes trained on the floor. He heard Keith snort. 

"So? Where are your clothes?" He repeated, crossing his arms. 

Lance's face turned a shade deeper as he looked down at the much too big unlaced shirt that hung off his shoulder and exposed the entirety of his neck and the loose pants that pooled at his feet and barely clung to his hips. He quickly pulled his arms tight around himself. 

"I-uh- my- haha- my closet sort of, um, ran away? I was looking for him so I could get dressed and- I'm sorry for wandering like this but I was- yeah, so-" he rushed, switching from foot to foot nervously.

Keith gave him a few slow blinks before glancing at Shiro and shrugging. 

"I don't care. Shiro is the only one who wanted to dress up anyway, and breakfast doesn't exactly call for formal wear." 

With that, the boy turned and continued to walk down the stairs, leaving Lance stewing in his embarrassment. Lance looked over to find Shiro still fixated on the floor. 

He coughed awkwardly before shuffling towards the stairs. 

"I'm going to go....find some clothes. See you at...um.....see you at breakfast." Lance stammered, groaning inwardly and stepping up before wincing a bit. 

As he pushed forward, Lance hoped it was his imagination that gave him the distinct feeling of eyes on his back. 

 

.

 

After managing to find an outfit in an abandoned closet that somewhat fit, Lance started down the steps for the second time in a day, taking extra care to not trip and fall. His ankle had risen from an uncomfortable sting to a dull throbbing, causing his limp to become more pronounced, but thankfully he managed to make it down the staircase without major incident.

Looking around, Lance managed to locate the dinning hall by the bright light streaming through open doors. As he entered, his breath was slightly stollen by the sweeping celling and grand chandler bathed in the morning light. The room was centered by a 8-or-so foot long table decorated with fresh black roses and small crystal statues. 

He stepped forward and saw the two brothers sat near together at one end of the setting, and saw a chair pulled out for him at the other end. He gulped slightly and sat, the chair pushing him to the table beneath him.

He noticed silence and looked up to see the two looking across the table. Shiro was smiling faintly in his direction and Keith looked slightly annoyed. 

"I'm glad you joined us." Shiro said, placing his metal arm on the table and leaning forward ever so slightly. Lance returned his smile and heard a disgusted sigh. 

"Took you long enough." Keith said pointedly, earning what Lance assumed was a kick under the table from the soft thump and Keith's surprised 'ow'. This caused Keith to glare at his brother. Shiro simply looked indignantly back as Keith stuck out his tiny pink tong between his gapped teeth to accentuate his point. 

Lance covered an amused snort with his hand before his attention was drawn to the doors to the kitchens. Sentient trolleys rolled out and parked beside the two sides of the table, followed by a familiar shape. 

Lance's eyes widened as Hunk stepped- rather, rocked- out of the kitchen with a pleased-looking drawer face.

Bizarrely, the cabinet had a chefs hat delicately balanced on his top. 

"This morning I have prepared Pan Perdu with freshly made apple-cinnamon butter and a light berry syrup, accentuated with freshly picked-" 

Hunk's description was cut off by the sound of a soft clatter and the scraping of claws against china. Lance looked up to see Keith shoveling the food into his mouth without restraint. He was quickly met by a light smack on his arm. 

"Keith, manners!" Shiro growled, pulling the plate out of his reach. Purple ears pinned back and Keith let out a low (somewhat high-pitched) snarl.

Shiro looked unimpressed, crossing his arms. "We use utensils and small bites when sitting at the table." He chided. 

Keith groaned and grabbed his plate. "Fine, dad. I'll just go eat in my room then." Keith snapped before he turned tail and stormed out of the room, leaving a bewildered Lance and a tired-looking Shiro. 

Hunk shifted awkwardly and opened his drawer to finish his speech before turning to leave the room as well, Shiro and Lance suddenly alone in the large hall. Shiro shifted and met Lance with an apologetic smile. 

"I'm sorry about my brother. He has grown a bit unused to....company." 

Lance nodded and shrugged. "It's okay, my brother can be the same way." 

Shiro's ears twitched curiously. "Brother?" 

"Yeah, he's about the same age as Keith." Lance replied, lifting his fork and taking a bite. He had no idea what most of the stuff was, but it was delicious. 

"Ah. Do you only have the one, or...?" 

Lance swallowed. "Nah, I'm one of five. But my oldest brother and sister are out of the house- So it's just me, Marcus, and Sara." He smiled fondly at the thought of his family before the thought turned bitter. "At least, that's how it was." He added quietly. 

"I see." Came the quiet response, and Lance shifted in the thick silence. 

From his point at the edge of the table, Lance suddenly felt overwhelmed with another wave of loneliness. He was far from his family, far from everyone he ever knew- he would probably never see them again. Lance pushed at his piece of toast and looked up.

His imagination may have simply reflected, but he saw the same loneliness in Shiro's slumped posture as well. He saw it in his wistful stare out the window and his slow examination of the chair beside him and felt a pang of empathy he blamed entirely on his sad, illogical loneliness brain latching on to the nearest living creature. 

Lance put down his fork, standing ubruptly and walking towards the other end of the table. He set his food in the place that Keith had sat and lowered himself into the chair, faintly aware of the bewildered look the beast was giving him. 

As he sat, he heard the figure next to him clear his throat. He looked up to see wide eyes and a raised brow and shrugged. 

"Seems stupid to sit so far apart." He said, looking down and portioning off another bite of food, lifting it to his lips. 

After a moment, Shiro's face faltered before he broke into a laugh. 

 

Oh.

Lance faintly felt a light blush creep across his cheeks as he sat stunned.

'He had the most wonderful laugh.' His brain supplied helpfully and Lance couldn't help but agree with himself. It started off short and quiet before slowly climbing in noise between light gasps. It was full bellied and genuine, the sound of it light and airy and giving Lance a strange feeling deep in his chest. His fork lowered from his lips, completely forgotten. 

As the noise came to an end, Shiro looked down into his lap, shaking his head and still smiling widly. "I suppose it is a strange practice." He managed, eyes crinkling slightly with humor as he looked over to Lance. 

Lance opened and shut his mouth dumbly, still a bit shocked. 

Shiro went back to his meal and Lance followed suit, staring at the breakfast food numbly as the laugh replayed in his ears. Shaking his head to dispell the noise, Lance took a bite of his food. 

It was going to be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really tired, so I apologise for any errors I missed. 
> 
> Thank you for the continued support as I attempt to write- I hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> Don't forget, all feedback is appriciated and welcome!!


	8. Something There that Wasn't There Before

After breakfast, Shiro and Lance walked out into the garden, comfortable silence between them. 

Lance was taken aback by how ornate and full it was, jaw dropping as he looked out on flowers and trees in full bloom of black and white flowers, a far cry from the sinister courtyard in the front of the castle. The scent of a strange kind of spring floated through the air, Lance's senses contradicting as he shivered in the chill and glanced down at the mounds of snow. 

The bright blooms in the perpetual winter of the castle added to the air of magic about the palace. He let out a soft breath, shivering again. 

Suddenly, a heavy fur cloak was being draped over his shoulders. Lance looked up in surprise to meet Shiro's gentle smile and soft expression.

"Won't you....be cold?" Lance asked quietly. 

Shiro simply gestured to his thick fur and Lance's cheeks burned. 

"Right." 

They continued to walk and Lance's eyes wandered to a thick grove of white and black roses. Curiosity prickled at the back of his mind. 

"What is it with this place and roses?" Lance blurted, reaching out to brush the pearly petals of one beautiful blossom. 

He felt Shiro stiffen slightly beside him before relaxing abruptly. 

"I think they're quite charming, do you not?" 

Lance shrugged and tilted his head. "But why all the monochrome? Wouldn't a little....I dunno, color, be good? In like, any of the flowers?" He gestured to the wide expanse around him and Shiro shrugged. 

"Black has been the color of this castle for many generations. Why? Do you....not like it?" He asked hesitantly, eyes flashing worriedly. 

Lance lifted his hands. "Not at all- it's beautiful!" He looked around. "Just a bit...cold, y'know?" 

Shiro nodded thoughtfully. "What colors would you prefer?" 

Lance blinked, gripping the heavy cloak tighter around his shoulders. 

"Oh, um....blue?" He offered, looking around. 

Shiro raised an eyebrow. "You seem rather attached to that color." 

Lance nodded. "Well, think about it- all of the best things are blue- the ocean, the sky, wildflowers-" 

"Your eyes." Shiro supplied lightly, before examining a flower with great interest. 

Lance felt his cheeks tint to pink and his stomach fluttered, but he dismissed as in the cold. "Yea. It's my favorite color. What's yours?" 

Shiro perked in surprise. "My....favorite...color?" He asked slowly. 

Lance nodded. "You do have a favorite color, right?" 

Shiro shrugged with a look Lance was surprised to find as embarrassment. His jaw dropped. 

"How could you not know your own favorite color?!" 

Shiro stiffened. "I just....haven't had time to think about it?" He shifted and started to walk, ears twitching back in an almost ashamed way. 

Lance laughed and reached out to pat his arm, missing the way Shiro went still under his touch. "Don't worry buddy, I'm not gonna rest until we find your favorite color- its too much of a tragedy to leave you without one." 

Shiro thought for a moment, but as he opened his mouth to reply, Lance turned and bolted into the trees. 

"Come on, let's go explore!!" He called over his shoulder. 

He heard scrambling behind him and ducked behind a tree, scooping up a handful of snow and rolling it in his hands. Shiro rounded the corner, looking around uncertainly. 

"Lance?" 

Taking the que, he jumped out and swung his arm, snow flying directly into Shiro's surprised muzzle. Snow powdered black fur as the beast blinked, frozen in a startled look. It reminded Lance of washing his old house-cat Blue, and at the comparison, he doubled over laughing. 

He heard a huff and a few light chuckles, Shiro joining in on his snorts. 

It didn't last long, however, as his head was suddenly covered in snow. Letting out a surprised yelp, he looked up to find him rolling another snowball, smirk on his face. Lance squeaked and took off running, scooping down to grab some snow and weaving between plants, trying desperately to loose the large figure. Peaking through a branch, he saw the beast gripping a giant snowball with a triumphant look on his face. He ducked down and packed his own snow quickly. 

He heard a throat cleared and turned to see a potted plant's crudely drawn face giving him a glare. 

"You better not be roughhousing in my garden." Pidge snapped, vines crossing in an annoyed pose. He noticed the pot was also holding a pair of shears and a garden spade, and he found himself strangely unaffected by the bizzare image.

"Keep your voice down, I'm hiding from Shiro." 

The strange eyes of the pot widened. "You are hiding from the master? You mean he's outside of the house?!" 

Lance's hand flew over the pot's drawn on mouth. "Shhh!! We're being quiet, remember??" 

"Evidently, not quiet enough." Came an amused growl. 

Lance looked up, just in time to catch a face full of snow. 

Letting out a shriek, Lance scrambled and took off in the direction of a grove of trees, snowball forgotten behind him. He saw a black shape behind him and made a split second choice, veering off course to body slam the much larger beast into a snow drift. 

Much to his delight, he succeeded, setting the beast off balance with a startled yelp. Unfortunately, a warm paw grabbed his and pulled him down into the snow as well. 

Flailing, Lance felt snow soak through his clothes into an instant. He heard a shaking laugh next to him and his heart soared for a moment before he attempted to scramble to his feet once again, succeeding in only sinking deeper into the snow. 

With a defeated huff, he flopped back down. The sun was blocked above him and he saw a broad smile and amused eyes lean over him. 

White flakes dusted the lion's mane and broad face and Lance watched as they turned to droplets of sparkling water before his eyes. 

Lance smiled up at Shiro and took a handful of snow, smearing it in his face with a laugh. Shiro chuckled and grabbed his hand in a gentle paw. 

"Rude." He teased lightly, waving Lance's own hand in front of the smaller boy's face, flicking off droplets onto his face. 

Lance laughed before sneezing and struggling once again to stand. Shiro raised out of the snow easily and offered his paw. Lance took it gratefully, being pulled up with ease before sneezing again. 

"Oh dear- you might be catching a cold." Shiro said softly, eyes filling with concern. 

"No, no- I'm-" Sneeze- "Fine. Just cold. And wet." Lance supplied, avoiding his gaze. 

He heard a light rumble and suddenly felt himself being lifted, and let out a squeak as he was pulled into a carry tight against Shiro's warm chest. 

He covered his face in embarrassment. "I'm really fine...." He whined, yet not making any attempt to scramble away from the soft and warm embrace and sneezing again. 

Shiro responded with a snort and started to walk. Lance attempted to put on a convincing pout. 

He placed a hand against Shiro's chest, feeling the steady thump of a heart. He was surprised to feel his fur was soft and dry, heat radiating from him in waves despite having been covered in snow a moment earlier. 

Lance flushed red as he found himself nestling closer subconsciously before giving in to the warm lure and pulling closer completely, the pleasant warmth banishing his shivers. As his head resting against Shiro's chest, he noticed the sharp increase in the frequency of the bumps and glanced up.

He must of imagined the sudden increase of the beast's heart, because when he looked up, all he found was the same stoic expression Shiro always wore. He wrote it off in his mind and closed his eyes, the warmth and feeling of being protecting washing him with a wave of doziness. 

 

.

 

He woke to the sound of soft arguing, still wrapped in the warm fur cloak and multiple layers of thick blankets. He was sprawled out on a fainting couch in an unfamiliar room, and turning his head, he noticed Shiro standing with his back to him, speaking in hushed tones with a clock and a hanging wall mirror that held the image of the beautiful young woman Lance had seen in his vanity desk. 

He was able to pick a few words from the clock's strange accent- spell, human, love- Lance's eyebrows knitted together in confusion and he shifted again. 

This drew Allura's eyes and with a clear of her throat, she alerted the two others to Lance. 

Shiro turned to Lance with a hasty smile.

The clock spoke first, stepping forward on the desk. "You're awake! How do you feel?" He said with a cheerful drawl. Lance squinted and was struck by how much the hands of the clock looked like a bushy mustache. 

Shaking away the thought, Lance smiled. "I'm a bit....hot?" He said, glancing down at the layers of blankets. 

Shiro was at his side in an instant, lifting him out of the pile gingerly. Lance flushed and pulled out of his arms with a quiet thanks directed towards the floor. Shiro looked a bit put out as Lance took a step back, but quickly remembered himself and straitened. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but when he seemed to be at a loss, Allura appeared in a mirror closer to the couch and stepped in. 

"Any nausea? Sickness? Would you like some tea?" 

Lance shook his head. "No thank you, I'm not a big tea guy." 

"Hot chocolate?" The clocked chimed (ha, chimed) in. Lance's eyes widened. 

"You.....you have hot chocolate?" He said in a quiet, awed tone. 

The clock smiled. "Of course." 

Lance shifted and looked at his feat, before nodding. 

The clock leapt off the desk and hurried to the door, Allura dissapearing from her mirror. 

"I'll get that right away, sir!" 

Lance looked up. "Is there any way you could....add a pinch of cinnamon?" He asked, biting his lip. 

The clock raised an eyebrow but smiled anyway. "Of course." 

The door opened and he disappeared into the hallway. 

 

Lance smiled faintly and noticed that Shiro was staring at him- yet when he looked up, the lion quickly looked away. 

"Cinnamon?" He questioned curiously, standing back and leaning against the desk at the other side of the room. 

Lance nodded and gripped the cloak around him. "That's how abuela used to make it. Whenever we could afford it, that is." 

Shiro looked curious at this, yet noticeably hesitant. "Is your family....poor?" He asked quietly, barely loud enough for Lance to hear. 

"No, not really- just big. After having that many mouths to feed, we didn't really have pocket money left over for nice things." He explained, playing with a tassel on the couch to distract his hands. 

They sat in silence for a few moments before Shiro opened his mouth. 

"It's been a while since I played in snow. It was nice." 

Lance smiled slightly. "Try not to beat yourself up too much for loosing. I'm the master of snowball fights." 

He heard an indignant scoff. "Loosing? I hardly lost." 

Lance grinned. "Nope. I won. That means you lost. Accept defeat, Shiro." 

Shiro let out a playful growl. "Oh really?" 

Lance winked. "Yes really. I am victorious." 

"Hm. First victor I've met who had to be carried off the field by the enemy." He responded mildly, examining his claws with a cocky smile. 

Lance's jaw dropped at the sudden nerve and his frowned. Without thinking, Lance picked up a pillow from the couch and lobbed it at the beast- the pillow hitting it's target with a surprised 'oof'. Shiro shot him a look before crumbling and bursting into another fit of laughter. 

Lance soon joined in, clutching his side slightly as he leaned against the couch. 

The doors swung open and a cart was pushed in with two cups of steaming brown liquid and the aroma of cinnamon and chocolate filled the air. Lance accepted his cup gratefully, inhaling the steam and remembering back to nights with his family, huddled around the fire telling stories. 

The rich flavor almost brought tears to his eyes and he leaned over his cup protectively. 

The cart pushed out of the room and Lance felt eyes on him as he took another sip. 

"Do you like it?" Shiro asked gently. 

Lance nodded vigorously and wrapped his hands around the warm cup, the flavor on his tong bringing a smile to his face. 

As he looked up and saw Shiro's pleased expression, Lance was struck with an unusual joy in the pit of his stomach that he couldn't identify. 

Strange and alarming as it was, Lance couldn't deny that he was beginning to enjoy being around the beast. 

 

He couldn't push down the nagging feeling that he was finally where he belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Out of curiosity, should I add a Shiro perspective chapter in here? Personaly, I think it would be way too pine-y for most's tastes, but I have one written if you want it.....
> 
> Comment down bellow your opinion, along with any critisisms or questions- 
> 
> and thank you, as always, for your continued support as I write!


	9. The Library

When he was young, Shiro didn't really believe in love at first sight. 

In fact, Shiro hadn't believed in love at all- being raised into royalty and surrounded by arranged marriages and widespread affairs tainted one's view of the idea. At the age of 10, he had already been introduced to the duchess he was told would one day marry, and while he thought Allura was pleasant and most certainly beautiful, he couldn't muster up any passion when he thought of her. 

When he told his father this, the man nodded and told him that it was good, that a strong king could be stronger without petty emotions like love. 

Seeking the king's approval only hardened the prince's heart further. 

 

The curse had cast a wrinkle in his ideals. 

When the witch took his arm and his humanity and told him he could only break the spell with love, Shiro had accepted himself to be doomed.

If his fate was tied to a fictional concept he was far too mature to possibly experience, so be it. 

So he spent years stewing in pain and anger, blocking out his brother and his servants in favor of blind rage and destructive habits. 

That was, until a blue eyed stranger appeared on his doorstep. 

 

The moment he saw Lance, shielding his mother with a defiant scowl and clenched fists, Shiro felt as if his insides were on fire. 

He was so beautiful, with gorgeous tan skin and rich blue eyes and messy curly hair. Shiro's sharp vision noticed traces of freckles across perfect skin and his eyes fell to his long, elegant figure and delicate neck. 

It took a second for Shiro to think past the screaming of his brain that this boy was a fairy, or a god, or an angel- because nothing from this world could be so wonderful. 

And when Lance offered to take his mother's place, Shiro's heart soared with hope, disregarding the more rational part of his mind screaming that he would be nothing but a prisoner, and couldn't possibly see Shiro as anything but the monster he was. 

 

That night as Shiro sat alone, he identified his ridiculous thoughts as nothing more than surface level attraction, making peace with the probability that the feelings would fade shortly. 

 

The next day, as Lance fled from his anger, he could think of nothing but his horrible guilt and the urge to chase him down into the woods- and all it had taken was one look into his magic mirror to see the tears that streamed Lance's beautiful face to send him roaring into the night. 

After fighting to defend him, and before he blacked out from the pain, he could plainly recognize the look on the boy's face. 

It was the look of someone who wanted to run. 

This was exactly the reason why he had expect to wake alone, sore, left carelessly in the forest- yet when he recognized his fireplace and his chair and met a look of relief on a smiling face, he was shocked to the core. 

 

It was then he became forced to rethink- and if Shiro had thought that his feelings were superficial, he was completely disproved by the way his heart soared whenever Lance would talk, or by the way he found himself wondering more and more about him- and the way he was delighted by every little new thing he learned. 

Lance wasn't only beautiful, he was magnificent in every form of the word. He was kind, intelligent, funny, sweet, childish, innocent, wonderful- and Shiro realized that he couldn't label the way he felt as anything else. 

Despite their brief acquaintance and his firm stance against it, Shiro was undeniably, completely, impossibly in love with him. 

 

.

 

As they talked over hot chocolate that was ridiculously delicious- the cinnamon Lance recommended made the treat 100% more enjoyable- Shiro learned several things. Lance's favorite season was spring, his favorite food was some sort of meat and vegetable dish called 'fajitas' (he made a mental note to have Sal or Hunk find a recipe), and his favorite passtime was reading. 

"What kind of books?" He asked curiously, settling into a chair across from Lance. 

Lance's face lit up adorably. 

"Oh, whatever I can get my hands on, really; non-fiction, history, logs of adventures, romance, fantasy- my favorites are fairy tales and fables, though." He said excitedly. 

Shiro nodded, leaning forward slightly. "Why fables?" 

Lance sipped the last of his hot chocolate before setting it down and grinning. "Well, I know they are usually for kids, but the idea of stories passed down for generations among families and friends is remarkable- every time someone retells a story, they leave their own twist- so it's not just reading one person's story, it's reading centuries of ideas and perspectives effecting a story in little ways, changing the tale into a rehearsed piece that has been given to you and it's like holding an entire portion of history in your hands and- I'm rambling, aren't I?" 

Shiro watched him with a gentle smile. "Not at all. I like hearing you talk about your passions." 

Lance's ears turned a light scarlet and Shiro felt a twinge of pride. Suddenly, an idea hit him and he stood, not missing the way his abrupt movement startled the other. 

"I'm going for a walk- care to join me?" He supplied awkwardly, mind racing for an excuse. Lance raised a suspicious eyebrow and Shiro wished he had more skill with white lies. 

Fighting away his hesitation, he offered a paw and watched as Lance considered it before reaching out and placing his delicate hand in Shiro's palm. Shiro's heart did a small flip as beautiful blue eyes met his and smiled without a trace of hesitation. 

"Of course." 

 

.

 

They were getting close now, Lance leaning into Shiro ever so slightly for support as they walked. His limp had improved quite a bit, Shiro noted, leaving the lithe boy only barely favoring his opposite leg as he followed by his side. 

As they rounded a corner, Shiro stopping in his tracks. Surprised, Lance stumbled to a stop himself, turning to meet his gaze. 

"What is it?" He asked, eyes widening a small bit in a way that made Shiro have the distinct urge to pull him close to his chest and never let go. 

Shaking his head to clear his rose- tinted vision, Shiro opened his mouth. "Close your eyes." He asked softly. 

This caused Lance to adopt a questioning gaze. "Um...why?" 

Shiro shifted. "It's a surprise."

With an eye-roll, Lance covered his eyes with a hand. "There, they're closed. Happy?" 

Shiro smiled slightly as he saw open eyes sneak a peak from slightly opened fingers, raising a steady paw over his hand to block his view. "No peaking." He replied, amused tone warm as he guided him forward, ignoring the indignant huff the boy gave. 

Reaching forward with his free metal arm, Shiro turned the handle and stepped into the room before lowering his paw. 

"Ok." He breathed softly, leaning over Lance's shoulder. "Open your eyes." 

As Lance lowered his hand, Shiro was met with a surprised gasp and a small hop of excitement. 

"Oh my god!! I've never- oh my god!!" Lance said in awed delight, eyes filling with the visage of rows upon rows of books of every shape, stretching clear up to the high celling. He ran forward before pausing and looking back. Shiro brightened even more as he took in the ecstatic expression on the smaller boy's face. 

"Can- may I...?" Lance managed. Shiro smirked at his restraint and nodded. 

"Of course. All of this is yours." He smile faltered and he hesitated, unsure. "I mean, that is...if you want it." 

Lance let out an whoop. "Are you kidding?? Shiro, this is- this is amazing!!!" He speed walked forward and Shiro suddenly found himself trapped in a tight hug. He felt his face heat and was thankful for the thick layer of fur covering his cheeks as he stalled before hugging back, still feeling as though he was walking on air when Lance pulled away and dashed off down the isle of books. 

 

There was no denying it, Shiro thought as he leaned against the door and watched with a fond smile.

This royal was royally fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All-righty, here is the Shiro chapter, as per request. 
> 
> This is probably going to be the one and only chapter from his view, as I personally feel that it's far too cheesy, but feel free to tell me what you think! 
> 
> As always, all comments, criticisms, kudos, and bookmarks are greatly appriciated!!
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	10. The Calm

Lance fell asleep on a pile of books and woke up neatly tucked into his bed. 

Rolling over in the warm covers, he blinked away sleepiness to see his reading material neatly stacked beside him with a piece of parchment on the top. Yawning and leaning over, Lance unfolded it find the directions to the library written in the neat yet shaky handwriting of an out of practice hand. 

Below the directions was a hesitant add on of 'Dinner at 6?', and below that was Shiro's careful signature. Lance laughed at the thought of the beast trying to grip a small quill to write and rolled out of bed. 

He heard a loud snore behind him and almost jumped out of his skin- but upon turning realized it was just his oversized roomate. 

With a scowl, he opened a drawer and shut it, snapping Hunk awake. 

"W-haat- what- what's going on-" He mumbled sleepily, makeshift eyes blinking awake. Lance crossed his arms. 

"So, you just decided to leave me without clothes the other day, eh??"

The dresser looked sheepish. "Well, I was going to leave you out an outfit...." 

"And?" 

"And I sorta forgot....sorry man." Hunk mumbled, sounding a bit sad. 

Lance sighed and felt a bit guilty.

"It's fine. As long as- well, you just better have a good outfit for me today!" Lance finished, elbowing the wood and flinching slightly as he felt the impact. 

Hunk lit up. 

"Of course! What would you like to wear?" 

Lance shrugged. "I was thinking about getting Luca settled into the stables and doing some walking so....something warm." 

Hunk's closet doors opened wide and Lance leaned in, picking out a dark pink cloak lined with soft white fur with a matching vest. 

Offhandedly, he noticed that the rack now held a few very fancy sets of ballroom attire. His eyebrows raised and he reached out to touch a quite beautiful yellow jacket embroidered with gold flowers and accented with tiny blue roses. 

"Hey Hunk, what's up with the formal stuff?" He asked, running the satin between his fingers. 

"Oh- nothing." Lance barely had time to pull back his hand before the drawers snapped shut. 

Lance gave Hunk a bewildered stare, but the man tried to look busy with sliding his drawers open and shut. Curiosity prickled him mind but he shrugged and took a step back. 

"Alright, fine." He said in a quiet tone, peeling off his bed shirt and getting dressed. 

 

.

 

Leading Luca through the snow to the stables, Lance hummed and kicked the snow lightly with a boot. The horse shook her head and he stopped to reach out and stroke her nose affectionately, placing a light kiss against the crown of her head and weaving his hands through her tangled mane. 

He saw a flash in the window out of the corner of his eye and smiled as he saw Shiro watching him from his office. He smiled up at him and waved, watching as the lion raised a paw to wave uncertainly as well. 

As he started towards the stables once again, he paused and glanced back up. He made a beaconing gesture with his arm and gave Shiro a wide grin. He watched as the shape retreated and hummed again, tying Luca in the stables and giving her a pat. 

Walking back out, Lance saw Shiro picking through the snow towards him. 

"Did you... Need something?" Shiro called, stopping a few yards from Lance. Lance closed the gap easily and rested a hand on his metal arm with a warm smile. 

"I'm gonna go find somewhere nice to read- care to join me?" 

Shiro paused for a second before noticeably straitening, not bothering to hide a pleased expression on his face. 

"I would like that very much." 

 

.

 

Shiro had shown him to a beautiful gazebo out on the southern lawn and after Lance gave his adamant approval, a few servants that took the form of two candlesticks and a chair brought out pillows and blankets to cushion the floors along with another tray of hot chocolate and assorted snaking foods. 

Staring out from his comfortable perch, and hearing a light birdsong from the trees, Lance had clapped excitedly before flopping back with a book detailing an explorer's visit to some beautiful island in the pacific that was completed by beautiful watercolor paintings. 

Glancing up, he noticed Shiro was watching the small birds picking at the snow intently and couldn't help a fond smile at the concentration on his face. Closing his book gently, he leaned forward and took a handful of grain and nuts before standing and guiding Shiro to the edge of the outcropping by taking his paw. 

Shiro let out a quiet and surprised huff, eyes widening as Lance dropped his hand and crouched down, holding out the small bits to the song birds. 

One hopped forward and tilted towards Lance's hands, snatching a small bit of almond and nibbling into it. The bird, clearly intrigued, hopped forward onto his finger and swung down, taking a bit more of the mix. He heard a soft gasp and turned his head to see Shiro's eyes widening as he kneeled down beside him. 

Careful to not disturb the blue bird, Lance lifted his hand and tilted some of the mix into Shiro's palm, watching as his eyes lit up with a boyish giddy excitement that felt alien on the usually mature features.

He turned to the birds and took a small shuffled forward, snapping a twig and scaring them into scrambling away. His face dropped and Lance felt his heart drop as well.

He set a gentle hand on Shiro's paw, steadying him as he sprinkled a light trail from the bush and into his hand. 

The same brave bird bobbed forward, picking at the trail before hopping onto a long claw and dipping it's head. Shiro's eyes sparkled with wonder and joy and Lance bit his lip to fight off a giggle. 

Standing slowly as to not disturb the birds or his companion, Lance retreated to the gazebo and settled down, opening his book. Before long, his eyes were wandering back to the hunched figure as he happily fead the birds and he couldn't keep his heart from doing a small loop. 

 

.

 

That night at 5 when Lance returned to his room, he was startled by the sheer volume of bustle in his room. 

Fancy makeup brushes danced on his vanity mirror while hangers swirled though the room carrying lavish outfits of every color. A brush appeared to be orchestrating a bath while a pitcher floated past his head to fill the tub with steam and a few lavender soaps danced back and forth, making a dripping mess on his carpet. Hunk was nowhere to be seen but a similar grey cabinet stood in his place, filled with beautiful jewelry and hairpieces that flashed in the light. 

The noise and bustle came to an abrupt stop as Lance swung the door open fully. 

"What the hell is going on??" He demanded, eyes flashing accusingly. 

There was silence before the jewelry cabinet rocked forward. "Greetings, Lance. We apologize for the bustle, but we are hear to prepare you for the dance tonight. I am Shay- Hunk is downstairs in the kitchens." A light voice explained. Lance stared, confused. 

"The what???!" 

 

.

 

Shiro paced nervously, claws raising to comb through his hair. 

"Don't you dare!!" Allura hissed from a mirror, crossing her arms. Shiro let out a growl in response and continued to pace. 

"That braid took an hour to perfect, and you look like a gentleman. Oh, and by the way, you are welcome for arranging this whole thing." She snapped at his annoyance. Shiro turned to the mirror. 

"This is a horrible idea. What if he doesn't want to come? He's just warming up to me Allura, don't you think this is pushing my luck a bit too far??" 

Allura rolled her eyes. "You've always been such a worrywart. Besides, need I remind you that the rose is almost up? It's been loosing petals everyday now for weeks- and I, for one, don't want to be stuck in a mirror for the rest of my life. Now- go out there and make that boy fall in love with you. It's now or never." 

Shiro opened his mouth to reply before he heard a soft door close and Allura faded from her place. He turned and froze in place, breath completely stolen from his lungs.

Lance looked wonderful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave all comments, critisisms, and suggestions bellow! 
> 
> We are almost to the end, so buckle up.
> 
> As always, thank you for the continued support!!


	11. The Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all knew it was coming
> 
> Here it is

Lance stood at the stop of the stairs, fidgeting nervously. He had chosen out the pale yellow and gold outfit that he had seen earlier in the day, and he was not too shy to admit he looked absolutely stunning. 

His brown hair had been trimmed and styled to accentuate it's slight curl, and a light blue hairpiece had been pinned behind his ear to accentuate the roses embroidered onto his jacket. His cheekbones had been dusted with light gold flecks that stood out against bronze skin and his eyes had been lined to draw out their shape. His tailcoat was covered in delicate swirls and beautiful roses and his hands had been covered with dainty gloves. 

Originally, Lance had been slightly taken aback by his appearance- he had grown accustomed to the finer clothing that came standard in the castle, but this was a completely different experience entirely. Everything he wore was beautifully made and delicate, every color rich and purposefull and simply grand. And even thought he felt slightly out of place looking like this, Lance couldn't help but feel a giddy excitement as he twirled in front of a mirror. 

The next hurdle was walking out and letting Shiro see him like this. He bit his lip a bit and squared back his shoulders before pushing through the door. 

Shiro stood at the mouth of the hallway, bathed in soft light that gave his fur a soft glow. His mane had been delicately arranged into a braid that disappeared at the cuff of his shirt. His jacket was dark blue accentuated with gold- Lance had the sneaking suspicion that they had been made to match- and he stood in a proud, regal posture that the smaller boy had only ever imagined in the walk of princes and kings. 

His eyes widened as he saw Lance, composure faltering as he reached the base of the stairs. 

"You look....." Shiro's voice sounded rough before he swallowed and looked away. "You look good." 

Lance felt an ever-so-slight pang of disappointment before he forced a smile back up and shifted. "Thanks. You too." 

Shiro offered an arm. "May I accompany you to dinner?" He asked with a joking light in his eyes. Lance giggled slightly and curtsied. 

"Of course, your majesty." He shot back, curling a hand around his arm and not noticing the slight flinch of his companion. 

 

.

 

After a spectacular dinner that had Lance convinced his closet roommate was some sort of food sorcerer, Shiro once again took his arm and escorted him to a huge ballroom. 

Lance couldn't help but gasp as he looked out across silver pillars and a soaring celling painted with beautiful murals of angels and cherubs. The room was lit by a gigantic crystal chandelier and held a small orchestra in the corner that hummed soft music as he looked around with wide eyes. 

"Shiro....this is....." He murmured, shaking his head at the almost overwhelming beauty. He felt a gentle paw on his shoulder and felt the beast lean over his shoulder. 

"Dance with me?" He asked softly. 

Lance felt a slight panic rise within him as he turned. "I- I can't." He stammered. Shiro's face dropped and he immediately stepped back, eyes filling with hurt- Lance let out a small cry and reached out to place a hand on his chest. 

"No, no, it's not that- I just- I- um- I don't know how. To dance." He rushed, scared of being judged but even more scared of being left alone. 

Shiro's mouth formed a silent 'oh' and he brightened. 

"That's okay- we can go slow while you learn." He smiled gently and took Lance's hand into his paw, giving it a light squeeze. Lance bit his lip before nodding. 

The beast took his other hand in his and lifted it to his shoulder, placing his metal paw settling on his slender waist before pulling him closer to Shiro's broad chest. Lance flushed a bit at the unusual contact but concentrated on following the slow foot movements of his partner to distract himself from the sensation and the pleasant weight on his hip. 

After a song in concentrated silence, he heard a soft laugh from above him to meet fond grey eyes. 

"You're doing amazing for someone who has never waltzed before." 

Lance bit his lip and blushed slightly. "I guess... I did take ballet for a short while when we lived in Italy." He mumbled sheepishly. 

"You lived in Italy?" 

He nodded. "We moved to Rome for two years after we lived in Spain." 

Shiro rumbled curiously. "Your family lived in both of those places and France?" 

"We also lived in Germany and England for a while. Mama's inventions made us go all over the place, entire McClain family in tow." He smiled slightly at the thought. 

"What are they like?" 

"Oh, Germany was beautiful- lots more country than you would expect, just rolling fields in every direction...England was a bit gloomy and foggy but had the most amazing modern architecture. Rome was filled with all these ancient buildings and relics but- Nothing can compare to the food and the culture of Spain. Even after all theses years, it's still home, I guess." As he finished his descriptions, Lance looked up to find Shiro's eyes clouded with an almost wistfulness. 

"I've always wanted to see the world." He said quietly, twirling Lance slightly. 

"Well why don't you? You clearly have the money- I mean, look at all of this!" Lance nodded out into the wide hall. 

Shiro laughed sadly. "You really think someone like me could go out there?" He responded, avoiding the smaller boy's gaze. 

Lance felt a pang of sympathy for him and gave his hand a quick squeeze. 

"It must be horrible to have been trapped like this for your entire life." He murmured. 

He felt Shiro sigh. "It is." He responded quietly. 

Suddenly, he felt Shiro's hand tighten slightly on his waist before he pulled away, keeping his hand in his as he lead him over to the doors of the ballroom. He pushed them open and leaned against the balcony, looking out at the night sky. Lance's eyes widened and he crained his neck, taking in the hundreds of stars blanketing the countryside. He smiled and rested his head in his palm. 

"At least the view isn't bad." Lance noted. 

He heard a soft chuckle from next to him and was oblivious to the grey eyes appraising him as Shiro responded. 

"No, the view isn't bad at all," 

They sat in silence for a few moments before Lance turned. 

"Shiro...why is it just you and Keith up here? What happened to your parents?" 

Shiro stiffened slightly and Lance backpedalled, wincing. 

"I'm sorry, I really shouldn't pry-" 

Shiro shook his head. "No, it's....it's alright." He paused and adjusted his collar. "My mother died when I was very young. Tuberculosis." 

Lance reached out and laid a hand ontop of a claw. "I'm so sorry.." He said with wide eyes. Shiro placed a paw on his and shrugged slightly. 

"It's alright- I was very young. I don't even remember her." His tone sounded somewhat bitter as he looked away. 

Lance shifted a bit closer. "And...your father?" 

"I don't know what happened to him. He just- disappeared, one night. Knowing the woods he was last seen in, he's probably dead as well." 

Lance looked up at Shiro's face and saw nothing but a practiced blankness. He reached his and up and pressed his palm to his cheek with a earnest look. 

"I really am sorry. It can't have been hard for you." 

Grey met blue for a few moments before Shiro looked down. "What about your family?" He asked, clearly wanting to avoid the topic of his parentage. 

Lance smiled as he thought about them all. "Ah man, they're great. There's my abuela- she always has something fresh and hearty cooking in the kitchen, and my Uncle Leo and my Aunt Rosa and their daughter, my cousin Dahlia..and my other cousin Julius and his wife....an-and Marcus...and Sara...and..." As he talks, joy turns to wistfulness turns to a crushing emptiness and loneliness. He blinks franticly to keep back sudden tears. "There's...um..." He wipes his eyes, noticing the black smudge on his shirt and rubbing at it feverishly. 

"A-ah man, I don't know why I'm crying." He mumbled, fumbling and forcing a laugh. 

"Lance..." 

He shrugs off a hand on his shoulder and turns away, caught between false laughing and letting out a soft sob, still franticly trying to blink away the tears before they fall. 

"You miss them, don't you?" Came the soft question, barely audible. 

Lance choked up a bit when he tried to respond before swallowing as he shakily wiping away the hot tears. "I- more than anything." He whispered, curling into himself slightly and avoiding looking at the beast all together as the crushing loneliness gripped every shake of his frail form. "You've been....s-so kind to me, but-" 

"But they're family." Shiro finished, sounding hallow. 

"They're family." Lance repeated, crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes to expel the pools of tears in his eyes. 

There was silence from beside him before he hears the brisk turn of claws off of the tile of the balcony. He looked to see Shiro walking back towards the doors of the castle. The form paused and Lance thought he would turn to look back, but instead he was met with just a few cold and emotionless words that sounded almost mechanical and forced- 

"I release you from your debt. You are free to go." 

With that, Shiro disappeared into the ballroom, not once looking back as Lance collapsed into shocked sobs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sorry
> 
> Next up is the exciting conclusion- thank you all for being so kind and receptive as I've tested my hand in writing! 
> 
> As you can probably guess I'm going to say, all comments, critisisms, kudos and bookmarks are greatly appreciated, and as always- thank you for reading!


	12. Beauty and the Beast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, woo-hoo!!
> 
> Just before you start, know that I have nothing against canon Lotor- I made him a douche for the story, not because I dislike his character- so anyway. 
> 
> Enjoy.

Lance felt the unmistakeable creeping of deja vu as he ran from the castle, pulling Luca from the stables and climbing onto her back. 

He wiped away tears and they rode forward, through the metal gates in galloping strides and Lance felt something soar within him. He was going to see his family again. He was going to go home. 

Yet, as he heard the heartbreaking sound of a mournful howl behind him, he couldn't help but question the cost. 

 

.

 

When he arrived in town, Lance was struck by how quiet the empty streets were. There was no late night bustle, no light from the tavern, no passing couples- unease settled in the pit of his stomach and he urged Luca faster towards the hill of the McClain house. 

When it came into view, Lance felt a bolt of fear strike him. The house was cast in orange torchlight and a mob surrounded it, villagers watching as his family franticly fought against a troop of men attempting to drag his mother into a cart. The light caught the dark wagon and Lance read out the word sanitarium- and his blood ran cold. 

He pushed through the crowd and stopped before the legions, yelling out for them to stop. He heard his abuela gasp as she recognized him and let out a cry. 

"Lance!" 

He pushed forward and grabbed onto his mother's arm. Her head raised weakly and suddenly her eyes lit with tired happiness. "Lance- you escaped-" She started, reaching out for him before the guard holding her gave another yank and pulled her back. He heard yelling from his family and joined in. 

"You can't do this!" He yelled, running after the guards and meeting the indifferent gaze of cold eyes, meeting the threatening pose of the town guard head- Sendak. 

"Your mother is a danger to those around her." He supplied with a snide leer. 

"A danger?? She's no danger at all!" 

The tall man laughed as she was tossed into the cage and Lance leapt forward towards her before being stopped by a firm hand on his chest. 

"Oh really? How do you explain her insistence that you had been captured by a huge beast? How would you categorize her urging men to risk their lives in the treacherous woods for her intrepid delusions when you-" Lance was given a cold once-over. "Seem to be completely fine? The old goon is completely crazy!"

Lance opened his mouth to reply before he heard a throat being cleared. 

The guards suddenly stilled and one by one, their heads turned to look questioningly over his shoulder. Lance spun and was met with a cocky smile and cascading white hair. He surged forward with a spark of hope

"Lotor, please- tell them-you know my mother isn't crazy- you've gotta stop these men-" 

Lotor lifted a hand to stop Lance. "I'm afraid there isn't anything I can do. Unless...." 

"Unless?" Lance repeated in an uneasy whisper. 

A cruel smile stretched across him lips and Lance felt himself being backed into the side of the carriage. "Unless you marry me." 

Lance broke away with a horrified look. "N-no!" He stammered. 

Lotor's face turned cold. "So be it." He turned and waved a dismissing hand. "Take her away." 

"No!! Wait!! She isn't crazy- there is a beast!" 

The townsfolk gasped uncertainly and Lotor turned, letting out a cruel laugh. "Look at you, just as insane as your mother- maybe they should take you away too." 

"No! Really! I can prove it! I-" 

Lance's mind raced as he dug through his bag. Something, anything that would prove Shiro's existance- He felt a small bit of guilt for exposing the man, but it was pushed down franticly. His hand clasped around a small mirror that had made it's way into his bag somehow- and when he lifted it, he was shocked to see Allura's reflection. 

"Grab him!" He heard Lotor command. 

He dropped it back into his bag as he heard the guards surging towards him, dashing into the house and hiding behind the stairwell.

No time to waste, Lance dug out the mirror and faced it, biting back tears.

Allura smiled up at him before noticing his distraught expression- her face dropped to concern. "Lance?" She asked uncertainly. 

Lance bit his mouth and hoped desperately for this to work. 

"Allura, show me Shiro!" 

Her face clouded and she looked taken aback. "Lance? What's going on??" 

Lance tried to contain his growing panic as he heard footsteps on the stairs and a muffled "You can't hide forever." From a guard. 

He turned a begging gaze on her. "Please- you're magic, right? I need to see Shiro!" Allura's expression faltered and she silently nodded once before the mirror crackled with blue energy and the glass clouded before showing a familiar roaring face. Not stopping to look, Lance dashed past the guards and back onto the porch in front of the shifting mob. 

"The beast is real- look!!" He lifted the hand mirror and he heard ripples of terrified gasps. He heard a scream and his gut dropped. 

"It's horrible!" Some woman shrieked. 

"What is that thing?" Chimed in another voice. 

Lance's eyes widened and he dropped the mirror, dismay growing. "No, no- you don't understand- he's my friend, he's a good man-" 

He was interrupted as the mirror was snatched from his hands by Lotor. 

The man's sharp face contorted into disgust before a snide expression slid on and he glanced up at Lance. 

He met his eyes and smirked before his face fell into feigned fear. "Good god, we're all in horrible danger!" he gasped in theatrical terror, turning to the crowd as raised cries of agreement rang out. 

"People of Altea- This beast is a threat to us all!" 

Lance's eyes widened in horror and he fought forward. "No! He's gentle and kind and he would never hurt-" 

His mouth is covered with a hand and he is grabbed and easily lifted off the ground by a hulking guard with a sinister grin and a missing eye. 

"Imagine what will happen if he is left loose- imagine what he could do to your children!" Lotor cried out, fist raised as he rallied the mob arround him.

The effect on the crowd was immediate, the mob suddenly raising in angry and frightened yells of agreement. 

Lance bit the hand of the guard and in the moment he released, he yelled out through tears. "No! He's not dangerous!!" His cries were lost in the roar of the rally. 

Lotor seemed to hear him and looked back with a scowl. "If I didn't know better, I would say you cared for this- this thing." 

Lance's eyes widened and he fought against the strong arms trapping him in place. 

"I can't believe it. You do care for the monster!" Lotor snapped, leaning in before letting out a cruel laugh. "You really are insane!" 

Lance struggled before gathering saliva in his mouth and spitting it strait into the mayor's son's face. 

Lotor's face morphed to one of pure rage and he smacked Lance with the back of his hand. 

Lance's face stung and hot tears slid down his cheeks. Lotor smiled with sadistic satisfaction before turning to the yelling mob. 

"We must kill it! For our own safety!" He yelled with a sneer back at Lance at the last word, grabbing a torch and pumping it skyward. 

"NO!" Lance screamed, but he was overwhelmed by cries of agreement. 

Lotor turned and pointed a steady hand at Lance. "Throw him into the cell with his mother." He ordered, and Lance was dragged away, kicking and screaming as the crowd started to chant. 

"Kill the beast!"

"Kill the beast!" 

"Kill the beast!" 

"Kill the beast!"

Lotor didn't notice the terrified face in the mirror before it disappeared, off to warn the castle. 

 

.

 

Shiro curled numbly in a corner, broken furniture and shattered glass strewn before him. His heartbroken roars had given way to even more broken silence as he cradled himself away from the world, watching yet another petal stripped back from the black rose. 

As horrible as he felt, completely alone, Shiro knew he would never change his choice. 

He loved Lance, yes, but he loved him enough to know that all that mattered was his happiness. If Lance couldn't be happy with him, he could never keep him from the world- 

Even if it meant breaking his own heart. 

Shiro felt the fur around his eyes dampening but didn't raise his paw. It was pointless to wipe them away as if they had never happened- in a few hours, the pain would be gone anyway, and the prince would give way completely to the beast.

He stared across the room at a portrait that had been commissioned long ago. 

His younger reflection smirked back from the tatters- no scar, no whitened hair, no metal abomination. Human and content with the little family he had, no need for love or companionship- A perfect future king, a nation's poster boy. 

Nothing like the broken man he now was. 

Shiro turned back to the flower and another petal fell. 

"Shiro! There is a mob coming- they're going to attack the castle!" He looked up to find Allura's distraught expression. 

He looked away slowly, standing and walking to his balcony, not flinching as broken glass cut into his feet. Sure enough, torchlight flickered deep in the forest. 

He turned and waked to his flower, resting a paw on the glass. 

"Shiro? What do we do??" Allura demanded, panic creeping through the edge of her voice. 

"Take my brother somewhere safe. Barricade yourselves into the library and protect him with your lives." He responded, tracing a claw against the delicate patterns of the cover. 

"What about you??"

"Let them come." Shiro said, voice hollow. 

"What?!? No- I'm not going to let them kill you-" 

"It all won't matter soon enough." 

"I.....Shiro...don't do this...." Allura cried, voice thick with emotion. 

Shiro sighed and turned his head slightly. 

"Go protect Keith, Allura." 

"I'm not going to let you do this!!" 

"Leave me!" Shiro snarled, rounding on the mirror and cracking it with his metal fist. Allura disappeared and he returned to his rose, eyes closing as he took a deep breath and resigned to his fate. 

 

.

 

Lance slammed his body into the iron door again, hissing in pain and frustration. 

His mother sat in a corner, slightly weak as she lifted her head to look at him. 

"It's no use, mijo." She murmured, resting a hand on his shoulder. 

"No, Mama! We have to try! I have to get to Shiro before-" 

She shook her head. "You mean the beast? Lance, you can't possibly think that it's safe to leave that creature alive. He held me hostage- he kidnapped you! Think about it logically-" 

"He let me go! He's kind, mama- and everyone makes mistakes- you taught me that everyone deserves a second chance- how is he any different??" 

She opened her mouth to snap back before sighing and closing it. She looked down. "Even so, there is no way you can get out of here. They are probably at the castle already." 

Lance banged his head against the bars in frustration.

Suddenly, he heard a sniff. 

He looked up hopefully. "Is someone there? Please- you have to let me out-" he was cut off as he saw a flash of purple. 

Keith stepped out, small fuzzy face coated with tears. 

"Keith, thank god- you gotta let me out buddy-" 

"How could you?" 

Lance's eyes widened and he saw Keith angrily wipe his face. 

"How could you just leave like that when- when- ugh!!" Keith kicked a discarded shawl, frame shaking with another frustrated sob. Lance felt his heart drop and he gripped at the bars. 

"I'm sorry Keith. I'm so sorry. Please, I'll go back- but you need to help me get out now, Shiro is in danger-" 

"Since when do you care about Shiro?? He loves you, and you just- you just ran away!" Lance couldn't help the small part of him that leapt with an inappropriate giddy joy before crushing grief hit him at the thought of the pain he must have caused- but he quickly forced himself back to the situation. 

"Keith....buddy....my man....I'm so, so, so, so sorry. I will make it up to him. And up to you. I just- I can't do anything from here, and I need to help him- okay? So please, please- help me. Help me save Shiro." 

The small purple boy sniffed, wiping his eyes vigorously and stepped forward to the door. 

"What do you need me to do?" 

 

.

 

Shiro could hear the battle rage below him, but couldn't muster up the strength to care. He hoped absentmindedly that Keith was safe, of course- but other than a fierce protectiveness of his brother, his mind was blank and numb. 

He leaned against the table and stroked the glass with his claw as another petal of the rose fell. 

He heard crunching of glass behind him and looked to see a lithe man with a bow. He rumbled softly as the man drew back an arrow, not bothering to duck out of the way or fight. He turned back to his rose and braced himself. 

With a solid thud the arrow dig into his back, causing Shiro to stumble with a roar of pain. His distracted lurching sent him clutching to the edge of the balcony and he faintly registered a foot digging into his back and shoving him forward onto the steep roof. 

He fell and scrambled for a hold, claws digging into the tiles and sending a few skittering off the edge. He let out a growl of effort and pain as the hold strained his injured back. 

He looked up to see his attacker land lightly next to him, backhanding him with the bow. Shiro lost his grip and slid downwards, managing to land on a narrow chimney stack before backing up to wipe a way the portion of his own blood that had slicked his paws. 

A lithe figure landed across from him and let out a cruel laugh. "You won't even fight back? How pathetic." He drew a knife and Shiro didn't even scramble to avoid him. 

"To think I was scared that you won his heart- I mean, look at you!" 

Shiro flinched, the words striking a nerve as blue eyes flashed into his mind. 

Anger surged within him, blocking out the pain of the arrow in his back and causing his vision to flare red.

"Did you really think that he could ever love a monster like you?" 

With a savage snarl, Shiro leapt forward, knocking the man back and grabbing his wrists in his paws. The man's eyes widened in surprise and he strained against him. Shiro's claws dug into his wrists, causing blood to trickled down his arms. He let out a yell of pain and dropped his knife, and Shiro tossed him to the ground easily, towering over him and stepping forward, baring his teeth. 

"Shiro!!" 

The beast turned, unable to stop his soaring heart as he saw a familiar silloette on his balcony. 

"Lance.." He murmured, and begun to climb towards his outstretched arms. 

 

.

 

Lance flooded with relief as he saw Shiro climbing toward him. 'He's alive. Thank god, he's alive.' His mind supplied as a paw grabbed his slender hand, pulling himself up.

Shiro was smiling too, face stretched wide as he leans forward and cups Lance's cheek in his hand. Happy tears were welling in both men's eyes, and Shiro's lips parted to say something- 

Before a dagger buried into his side. 

With a roar, Shiro surged backwards and Lotor stumbled and rolled back, screaming with fear and rage as he slid uncontrollably downwards and off the roof, desperately grasping at air as he fell. Lance barely had time to gasp in shock before realizing Shiro was slipping and pushing himself out of his stupor. 

Lance grabbed onto Shiro before he could fall as well, hefting with strain as he pulled the larger figure over the balcony. 

"Oh my god- nononononono- fuck-" Lance murmered as red soaked white and black tiles, desperately pressing against the wound with his hands. Shiro's chest heaved, breath coming in short, quick gasps. His paw was still cupped against Lance's cheek, and Lance yelled in fear as it drooped. 

"Shiro- no, nonono- stay with me, come on-" He turned, still desperately trying to stifle the bleeding with his now soaked hands. But no matter how hard he pressed blood kept coming, thick and bright and soaking into Lance's cloak. 

"Somebody help!!" He screamed into the darkness, voice hoarse and strained against tears. He heard a few huffs and turned back to see Shiro's eyes fluttering. 

"Y-you came back.." He whispered roughly. Lance choked out a sob and nodded feverishly. 

"Couldn't stay away." He managed through tears, taking off his jacket and pressing it against his side with bloodied hands. 

Shiro laughed softly before breaking into coughs. "I- you asked what-" He broke off in another fit of coughing and Lance bit his lip to stop a soft whimper. "W-what my favorite color was, once in the-" 

"In the garden." Lance finished, forcing a teary smile. "You said you didn't know, and I was going to show you things-" he cut off, tears coming too thickly to manage finishing his sentence. 

Shiro nodded and his paw raised weakly and a thumb traced under Lance's eye, wiping away a tear.

"I think- I know it now."

Lance's face knit and he struggled to see through a waterfall of tears. 

Shiro smiled up at him, grey eyes clouding. "My- my favorite color is blue." he paused, coughing weakly and fluttering eyelids. "Dark....like...like...your eyes....." He managed, voice dropping- and then his paw sagged, his eyes slid close, and Lance let out a horrified scream. 

"NO! Shiro! Stay with me! Shiro- no-please- don't- don't leave-" 

He closed forward, burying himself in the beast's still warm chest. 

"No..." He whispered weakly, gripping his cloak in his hands. 

Lance's body shook with a sob and his eyes squeezed shut. 

"I-I love you..." 

 

Purple light suddenly flooded from around him, and Lance felt the body bellow him lifting. He looked up and scrambled back in shock, watching as light cocooned Shiro's body. 

Lance shielded his eyes as another burst of energy shot out blindingly, squinting as he saw fur recede into pale skin and claws meld and shift into human hands. He blinked as he watched glass fly past him into frames and broken furniture repair before him. 

Crumbling and menacing lion statues around him turned regal and sturdy and Lance gasped as he turned and the energy faded, leaving a crumpled body on the tile. 

"Shi- Shiro?" He stammered, uncertainty settling in his chest as he took a hesitant step forward. 

His eyes widened as he took in a handsome face crossed only by a scar and shielded with long, overgrown black hair and a white tuft. Slanted eyes opened and the man shifted, blinking away foggyness and lifting himself to meet Lance's tear-stricken face.

Lance scrambled back in slight fear, watching as the man clutched his head before his eyes widened upon seeing his hand. He turned back with a soaring hope on his face and noticed Lance's confusion. He could barely hold off a smile as he learned forward and reached out, swallowing thickly.

"Lance- lance, it's me." He said softly, looking overcome with emotion. 

Lance's eyes narrowed and he looked down to see that the man had a silver arm. 

He looked up again and met grey eyes that he recognized and he couldn't help a joyus whoop as he surged forward and wrapped his hands tightly around Shiro's neck, pushing the man to a ground with a light 'oof'. He felt Shiro's chest rumble with a joyous laugh that brought a happy flush to his cheeks. 

After a second, Shiro pulled back and cupped his face, eyes turning abruptly serious. 

"Lance, I have something I need to say-" 

Lance shook his head and cut the larger man off, pushing forward and capturing his breath in a tender kiss. 

Shiro stiffened in surprise before meeting his lips warmly, pulling the slender waist flush against his chest and deepening the gesture. 

Lance pulled free, lips popping wetly as he pulled back. He smiled giddily at Shiro, meeting his gaze lovingly. 

"I love you too, you big idiot." 

And with that, Lance and Shiro pulled together again in a desperate and loving kiss, and Lance felt his chest fill with love and happiness and belonging. 

 

After all this time, after all his searching-

 

Lance was finally whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, that's a wrap. 
> 
> Thank you for reading my first ever published fanfiction, I hope you liked it.   
> Thank you also for all the support and kudos and kind comments, yall are wonderfull <3
> 
> I hope this was everything you hoped for, and if not, feel free to leave me a note saying how you think I can improve- I am always willing to learn and try new ideas! 
> 
> Anyway, as always, thank you for being here. 
> 
> That's all for now! 
> 
> -Ri


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